This is a song about "Crack pipes gets thrown around"

The deepest of your feelings

And punches thrown with metal rings

They may be in pipes but i'll be in magazines

You know the common statistic inspired by hoop dreams

And one day you're gone grow to be a rolling stone

Nothing in my way shootin for the thrown

She was wet off the bat

For what for cookin crack

But if you took a second mr. mirror, you would see

My identity thrown up top, primarily,

Just sit back in suburban chrome when words are thrown,

But i be like for real, just pick up that phone

I get thrown around like a rugby ball but atleast i tried,

I was gonna start diggin' into these niggas chest, right

But i pray these everlasting groupies don't fuck up this love

Now stop fucking around before shit gets serious