This is a song about "Designer goods"

I don't rock designer cloths, i rather rock and shock with that raiden robe

Your album sound like some shit a fake wiz khalifa papa wrote

Goadome nikes, the cortazone of the poem writer

All my shit designer and i’m still a minor

With a ski maski'm the first one to warn them

Dont wear designer brands cause i can't afford em

Wearin' up in a jacket and designer pelle pelle nigga,

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla

Check me i be jumping out the coupe, swagger through the roof

The goods assures to fill neighborhoods with smoke from the backwoods

Quick masterly thieves purloining precious goods

Tell the homies i'm in heaven and they ain't got hoods

Because i'm weary of seeing all these rappers spitting on records with no skill

Hustlin in our hoods , slanging nothing but the goods / street to street you will