This is a song about "Clothes"

I'm rockin' average joe shmoe's regular clothes

If we ain't right and always at the throats

But even when you leave, somehow it still try to follow

Ho, ho, goes, père noël in his little mufuckin fat ass clothes clothes, so so

Learn it by the g code, fire under them street clothes,

My momma taught me never steal and never tell on folks

Damn, they wanna label me a menace

Like clothes, herself swallows my census

Went down the aisles, snatchin' all the clothes

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

Goodwill or salvation army full of clothes,

Alot of episodesand as the glock loads

They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

I take tokes while you little niggas take notes

Heat for foes, shoppin sprees with my fleet for clothes