This is a song about "Forty sippa"

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

I'm worldwide i'm certified, pop a bottle my cali dime

Not with all of em, maybe forty

On they twitter writing novels, see

They giving me pounds and thats of course getting money

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

Leaving him eight hundred and forty pounds heavy,

Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free

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

To keep me happy there's no limit to the things you did

Forty-five on the side me (boom boom)

But i was wrong, baby girl sung another tune

Forty mental slugs for these corny gental thugs

And all we lack is communication like service sucks

And i don’t know why you fuck niggas can’t see

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