This is a song about "Brooklyn kids"

Residin in brooklyn and long island//

Fuck around dawg, get ya head bust

Big stacks, no lego bricks

I try and respect kids

Abandoned throughout the land a million little kids/

And we don't fucking make horrorcore, you fucking idiots

The kris kringle of rap servin little kids

Up all night with college hoes, edibles and bong hits

So here i am at the store for some chips

Clothes are dusted and he loathes these kids

How about our president killing innocent kids?

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

I wanna feed my babys kids

Nowadays usually it's his pockets

States the fate of an artist bent on brooklyn banks/

Cuz the way her eyes glance like they playing in my pants