This is a song about "Cargo"

And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth

Who holler back to days untold with cargo-holds of golden lighters.

The cargo youc arried at this point was going to stop your

Her hair all over the bed, that make me love her more

You fall low on cargo until you come to a stop

Hair weave killer had on louie's in my mug shot

My great brain, the freight train, loaded up with cargo

I keep a level head, gettin high layin low

Then i left the hood, like fuck it don't need the cargo

Hollow tip dum-dums eat flesh like piranhas though