This is a song about "Crushin on a boh"

Let's buy guns and kill those kids with dads and mom

Stack a gang of bricks racks on racks get our grind on

With such an ugly picture in it and

Crushin up untill weed it is fine dust (fine dust)

I had on a black tee,

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Raw, like a hard on wit no condom on

Full of shit, like i ate that john

Dc, man over money

Got a bounty on me

But there's nothing else inside

2am on a sunday night

Babe you know it gets no better than this

Its a funeral on april twentieth,

Razor grips, laser spit

Come on just "take a hit"/