This is a song about "Creased jeans"

Dub a.l.e., still a son of a gun

"billie" in my "jeans", rest in peace mike jackson!

Your bitch is a hood bitch you can find up in these streets

But then again got her period blood all up on my jeans

And i ain't stopping baby even if the light is red

I have a pocket full of dreams, but not the jeans yet

Get grand slam fans out of they seats

Cant you see the true religion jeans

Got the vans on, plaid shirt and some skinny jeans,

Can barely walk the city streets

If that bitch don't like you, she gonna tell you how she feel

All my jeans have three pant legs for dealin with this ordeal

I have a pocket full of dreams, but not the jeans yet

And i'm somali so i guess i'm just tryna eat bread