This is a song about "Forty sippa"

Forty mental slugs for these corny gental thugs

In a malcolm x shirt chillin' with the ku klux

And all that time with your friends put my momentum on decline

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

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

Different chef, same pot bro, not guianese buddy

Seen blood, sweat and tears like a locker room

Forty-five on the side me (boom boom)

All my friends, weed & cigarettes so i take a hit

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

Latin assassin bustin off like a forty-four fuckin magnum

If you ain't talkin' dollars then i don't see where you comin' from

Heavy weed smoker, get ounces for free

Not with all of em, maybe forty