This is a song about "Fiddy pounds of cash"

Pockets so fat of money there creaming cash rules evrything around me

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see

We would like to call this an appreciation tape

Like taking off a sheer hundred pounds of nothing but weight,

Everyday we party hard like there ain't no tomorrow

That's my cash flow; the mass of the ass attached to my last hoe

Remember this face, save me a place, in thug's mansion

Give them the heavy flow of your words, they got cash stackin',

Cuz its only a hand full of rappers dass touchin da cash.

But anyway, give me cash fag, cause i'm low on gas

I was prevented from seeing/ a fifth grader and 135 pounds

Make account getting vows spitting movable bowels

Heyyy! better daysgot me thinkin' 'bout better days

Satan's horns, thunder pounds, pieces of an angel's face,

So yes, faggot, i'm fly regardless of the cash made

That's why this my mission statement, bitch get it straight