This is a song about "Cryin"

All the bad strippers gotta greet me with the government

This guy ain't nothing, i list it, bout to send you home cryin and

I'm at the funeral cryin' heavily,

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

And don't come cryin to me, when all your so-called friends "leave"

They dubaleing to me. bawo ni to my ladies

Y u cryin? "gimme back my back" no bitch its mine, i rap not for your souls

Because now a nigga hot enough to fuck with one of satan' hoes

I found myself losing focus at a sunday service

The middle class suburban kids are cryin', and slittin' wrists,

They're wildy cryin', goin' outrageous, when the niggas close the curtains//

Cuz she came back with the kid and yoi been payin ever since

Oh yeah we're old as fuck, we didn't have our glasses

Meanwhile the nation's dehydrated, they cryin malice