This is a song about "Dead end jobs"

I’m a beast when my shit hits the streets these niggas cease

I own multiple chains, outsource jobs, and ship 'em overseas,

Done be ashamed-it ain't no thang, i used to blow trees

Is southern culture, still we got our fucking jobs overseas,

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

And every day my mama drifts jobs like she's sleep-walking,

Thought it was over right at the dead end, but then

Ignore cus she mad again, then i hit her back again

Get a little smart, want to change yo tops

You sell yourself for better jobs

We're working nine-to-five at different jobs, around the clock,

I'm optimistic like playing keeno with all that you got

As you sit and pray, hoping the beatings'll go away

Because i'm workin' jobs to help my mom with my lowly pay,

I was like a young simba couldn’t wait to be the king

And every day my mama drifts jobs like she's sleep-walking,