This is a song about "Forty sippa"

Forty mental slugs for these corny gental thugs

Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks

Now i know a lotta styles, some see

Not with all of em, maybe forty

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

No such thing as sympathy, more money my remedy

Latin assassin bustin off like a forty-four fuckin magnum

Fuck-nigga-ass hypebeast niggas, now back to the album

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

I just tell cj keep on rollin’ that's my shorty

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

Rape her and record it, then edit it with more shit

I just want somebody i can see

Leaving him eight hundred and forty pounds heavy,