This is a song about "Dirty thirty"

Stockyard bards, a hundred thirty two years charred

The vacancy that sat in my heart

All my real motherfuckin partners

For clockin dirty dollars

The next thirty seconds i didn't understand

Stack in his hand trynna make that last

That's equivalent, to the poison in a cigarette

Bet you thirty dollars you find her like cartman found kenny, dead

She sees the world through a dirty window

Like a nigga movin' kilo

Never tell em bend over i just make em’ take a bow

A thirty shot to me is like a ten finger akimbo

Hundred k in twenty-two hours

And i'm from the dirty south,