This is a song about "East saint louis"

We the moody, gucci, louis and pucci men

See me as blasphemous for i don't need them

And that was when i was in the eighth grade

I'm on the british south east coast mate

Tried to be a saint once,

Or closed casket for our troubles

Im trying to have a good saint patricks day, im sippin 40s,

Like i went to sierra leone in a homecoming dress

Those streets are like frontline warzones like the middle east,

More clearer than the crystal sky, blue as the beast

There's a million names for your kind of chronic

Stalkin santa cause i could give a fuck for saint nick,

I'm a blessing but no i ain't a saint

Cause i’m going out with a fist raised

But i get you, i bang with you the long way

On the beach of saint-tropez, but your man don’t lay