This is a song about "Calum hood"

When it came to grams it was 90 i fried

Forget the hindsight, hood dreams, diamond white,

That's right bitches, i aint from the hood

Fistful of wood, twisted for the good

Lookin back in my yearbook, all the years took

Feeling blessed i was never in that hood

Whole lotta money, big tip i would

I'm not black and i wasn't raised in a hood

My lady, my baby

I got the hood behind me

Buy a chick a new bag when she taste good

Four cuban links on my neck, trap out the hood

Instead to get the respect your dissin your own hood

Dear momma don't cry, your baby boy's doin good

Lobsters and shrimp im good

I don't live in the hood