This is a song about "Crate digger"

Righteously living, i know all my verses be cold

Lil nigger- you think pricks like a gold digger you're told

Can't see his son shine like the four tops

Momma crying cuz her son in a crate box

Must be part of some big plan to keep a brotha in tha state

I travel long distance just to stuff your body in a crate

I i used to be that guy sitting on a crate, shotting of an 8th trying to get myself paid,

Its important we communicate, intentions to be forever but never cannot wait

Go home a nite to find that my mums brought a crate

Do it with no effort, now lets effin' celebrate

You have basically locked yourself in a crate

Uh riding 'round, i got some towson bait

And he's the only nigga in this particular grade

I can seal your fate in a crate and make that shit parana bait