This is a song about "Forty"

Not with all of em, maybe forty

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Snapping necks and records in matter of seconds check 'em son

Latin assassin bustin off like a forty-four fuckin magnum

Why can't we plain disqualify my percentages of forty nine,

And on skype bet you say "le where my flight at?", if i decline

Yeah got to the club early just to get in free

Could be so thorny, make me want to drink a forty

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

I sip the forty ounces, and mix that shit like brass monkey,

I ain't your regular rapper who just be talking shit

Its my prove of sharing the stamp, the forty two sedated

Forty mental slugs for these corny gental thugs

In a malcolm x shirt chillin' with the ku klux

Leaving him eight hundred and forty pounds heavy,

Look dog, don't be asking for dame, see