This is a song about "Corn rows and bad manners"

Ah shit we have to juggle manners.

Let's enjoy our younger years

The corn-tops ripe and the old breeze blowin',

And non-nigga friends got it with him

Alwaysstay ahead of these stank hoes

All these grave stones are kept in clean little rows,

When i am mad, and things look bad/

Pump, fake, jumpshot, ball hit the back

And i got that bait, they all bad

Cause now you got me hopped up on that

It spreads bad tempers and tragedies

Niggas wanna know why i'm so nice

Wit’ some killers and everybody know who we are

Stammer with ya manners and the ring on my finger

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

All these grave stones are kept in clean little rows,