This is a song about "Brooklyn nets"

I won't give it to you just like your girl even that bitch wants to make me hurl,

If i hold onto the shredded threads, it will mold into non-captured nets, girl

East side till i die, brooklyn is my residence/

Like that's going to make up for the years and the tears

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

States the fate of an artist bent on brooklyn banks/

A lot of women from conversation could fall in love

A story too familiar for too many brooklyn residents

Santa loves some but in brooklyn, he dodged us.

And when we on the road, bitches follow the tour bus

Live life to the fullest, travel to brooklyn/

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

Thats my surroundings in compton, have common sense

No kidd in they lack balls to score; they need to work with nets!

And when they try to get parental and start talkin' loud

Its was a cold night in brooklyn when i first set out