This is a song about "From 5th street killers"

And older women put a nigga on their bucket list

Of felons, killers and monsters, so revealing and honest

And every nigga suddenly be rappin bout that trap shit

Im piloting hip hop after a 5th of vodka in the cockpit

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see

Buying a killing product, giving killers my money, for some honey,

With hi-tek on the score, once more, of course

Killers walk free, countries having civil wars,

You forget this shit comes from the street

Dmv that's on me no days off i don't sleep

Get off of my feet, and then i got these punks from my old street

My father's dead, well i don't know, we'll never fucking meet

Takin' clips from the magazines like killers, filled up,

I’m a bad boy, bitch, ask puff, sip ciroc its my last cup

As they pass through the glass of my neighbors five deep

I turn around and its freddy kruger from elm street