This is a song about "Callin with pay phones"

I take tokes while you little niggas take notes

Pounding on the stereo, in my head phones,

Just to pay to eat and sleep with fuckin heat on tomorrow

Psycho, maestro, orchestrate the life with the right flow

Along with your life, so now you'll eternally pay

End these weak niggas like a mofuckin' friday

And it's hard to pay, even with food stamps and medicaid,

Mostly cause niggas hate you, tryin to fill up your plate

All on their phones, they had other plans.

Know it good when she go no hands

Don't always fuck me good, i'm just too cheap to divorce her

So many haters, callin' me faker, money maker.

Ball in hand, with callin stands, i looked at you and never saw a man

Gucci mane i run the land from africa to pakistan

Give poor pay-less pat a habitat with a thermostat

Know there's a barbed wire that's always in your past