This is a song about "Gangs of chicago"

Couldn't be better. i'll admit to planning this, but these gangs are all on my shit...

Come close, catch a contact, i got a loud pack in my cargo pocket

Kidnapping girls, killing niggas for gangs

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks

I pack more soul than chicago packs guns,

We'll shoot em up with they own fuckin weapons

They got me goin mad, i'm knockin busters on they backs

Theft of a man's chest it's like gangs test and exams

But my vision has inclined to some interscope, and its home

I've been walkin' streets of chicago, yeah this shit is so capone,

Top of my pile of bodies

I'm why baby mommas leave

Chicago days, lake michigan waves

Never the gold, i wanted gold plated chains

Who know this be the life that i really live

Out of this coviction of feelings