This is a song about "Empty streets"

On an empty stomach

Fuck that shit, i don't give a fuck

At least superficially make the conversation less empty

And when money is plenty, a lot of nigga's is friendly

Little more weed, first class seats

You can't leave the ghetto streets

On award tour, on excursions, i'm a virgin of swap meets

Streets became home to me/ like a mother to be/ the streets

Like a balloon...she's empty

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

And i don’t know why you fuck niggas can’t see

Ninety percent of words spoken are empty.

Regular girl, celebrity dreams

Played our beats on the streets

Empty all these bullets directly into your interior.

Quit trying to be somebody's boss and be a leader