This is a song about "Fancy f"

Like being garbage some type of disease

Letters are rambunctious made from f~leece,

Or the crack that they sell to put food in their kids

Yeah, fancy cars, big bodies and fresh kicks

When she f***in' turns around

Im down and out

[f] forgettin' fame formulates foreplay for suicide,

Now me and quik gonna show you niggas what it's like on this side

Tonight no pitchers, everything's straight

F a m e, i learnt that in 2nd grade,

We get the bread and the crumbs, young money

The d-a-v-e f the mothafuckin g

Hoping that nobody don't notice

So why the f should i be in his

Fancy type of draws drool on a mild pile

You never tire, might as well as inspire