This is a song about "Dead streets but i m still looking"

I'm still looking for my mind

You can search but you'll never find

I'm still looking for what's mine

It’s whatever, you shine, i shine

J. cole's her ghost writer

I"m the designated driver

That's equivalent, to the poison in a cigarette

Got overun by the youngster gang, but i glock till they dead/

World war one two, plague and dead jews i still got the souvenirs

Oooo your booty so thick behind them juicy ass lips

Like a church in debt

Fuck i still wish i was dead,

That you allow me to work it 'til you know what your actual worth means

Could have left him dead in the streets, fuck that i finna get some eats

Blind fucking hate inside my heart, guaranteed

These streets are cold as winter, but folks still pack the heat,