This is a song about "Dry"

Left out to dry like a big bag of buds,

100 miles and running, wale, catch dubs

I write rhymes, dry and wise

I need a backyard full court size

Need some weed, awful dry

That got your mother high

Doing cocaine, pretty dry on a church day

End these weak niggas like a mofuckin' friday

Seen drive-bys takin' lives, little kids die

Face still dry, wasnt born wit shit fuk ya slice of pie

She gotta hold her head up high

With feelings that we're dry

Like a mouth with dry sockets

Dc's here, this is where crack lives