This is a song about "Drought"

We on another level, i'm bout to pull that porsche out

Spiritually i always knew i was stuck in this drought

Fuck a pest, we ain't in raid drought

Exit the v wit my gun out

These sb's ain't never coming out

Thirsty hoes, and its a drought

Fucking drought these are my sufferings this is what i go through so try to walk

Brooklyn boy get plenty love, on the turnpike with my philly broad

These words spout you have a creativity drought

Bein' a woman, a black woman at that, no doubt

We don't speak to informants, they just look for a way out

They are going to ran out like their mouth just drought.

There must be another route, way out

You sound thirstier than a mothafuckin drought.

My bitches bad, these niggas mad, i guess it's just what the fame brings

It's no drought were i be, bitch no police, here's fire wings