This is a song about "Folk 340 igd"

I coulda sworn that budweiser can read fruit punch

We young folk here, spittin' raw street knowledge

I'm one of the best who graduated from the streets of nor-folk

I'm gettin money til my pockets need a tummy tuck

Picture this: picking kicks out of foot locker

If you got design skills at all, homie holler

Whoa yo, yo.. no homo, i'm not gay, faggot

This shit gotta change so please do not fight it,

Might clap ya kin folk, its simpo, ya family don't matter/

While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for

'caution when you engage with the common folk

Who swore i'd wouldn't live till twentynow they gotta cope

I style on new york, pile up my fork

Sup players, thanks for all the support,

The associates of this socio will rope a dope folk

Now i’m killing these shows, i just deliver the hope