This is a song about "Gangs"

Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that

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

You kidding meit's really nothing to me and my king

U'll get shot by gangs of cops for attempting rhino poaching

Kidnapping girls, killing niggas for gangs

They say hip-hop's dead, i believe it's just the fans

‘cuz they choose colors of bloods and crips in gangs,

When i cock the beam back, i'm aiming for supreme hats

Obviously oakland gangs ignore this carelessly

They giving me pounds and thats of course getting money

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

Go to hell, i mean that, burn you like green backs

I roll with real gangs stole 'n steal grams make a bitch squeal

And i ain't tryna spit, but got dollars here

Oh he was shot by other gangs/

Know it good when she go no hands