This is a song about "Cookies and working out"

You're like the sun and winter, my pot of gold

Poor, working-class household, now i'm here out cold,

She got a fat ass, she prolly know me well

And end up working at mcdonalds or taco bell

And niggas ain't shit but you already knew that

Working on our mixtape and album, you wit it,

We fight with these rings with the intention to ever last

Working and middle-class people were viewed as gutter trash,

And it's their lack of education, working minimum wage,

I never judge a murder by weapons, only the rage

And every night, believe, we gon' leave with somebody

And that's exactly why i'm working so it's no part of me.

Everything i wanted never seem so close

I remember shotguns and modest working class homes,

Black ghost, white driver, such an oreo, i'm thinking out loud

Been working overtime, anytime's fine for me to let out/