This is a song about "Empty streets"

And now me, you can call me mr. friendly

Ninety percent of words spoken are empty.

Cops hit the block they start spilling intel till they empty

In the face of adversity, i prepared a verse to see

You're walking these streets,

Get blown like lawn leaves

Then sit empty in hell

And i ain't goin' well

2 girls 1 cup

On an empty stomach

Trap our young black seeds

You can't leave the ghetto streets

Kush, baby mama-less; yeah no seeds

Betta stay outta the streets