This is a song about "Dreams and money"

Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns

Spread thin between dreams and obligations,

And cause all their dreams to rupture

She can't be my mother

Bitches love money and i got a lot of money

Different chef, same pot bro, not guianese buddy

You're talking to one of the greatest

I got money mind and money on my wrist

Turn money into diamonds and gold

Nudies and some j six, where i’m from it’s cold

With plenty of money and women

She watchin' that oxygen

Your bitch is a hood bitch you can find up in these streets

I was a reckless teen, with wild hopes and dreams,

This aint drug money, baby it's thug money and love money,

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see