This is a song about "Gangsta pistol gun crip blood thug life"

She vying for number one, tryna be number one

Racism stands tall with his smoking gun, a child's life stolen

We all just victims of that thug life

Hop in and let me test drive

In pajamas i snuck out to watch santa

He turned into your everyday gangsta

Like in real life i've never lost a gun fight

With 80 racks in my pocket, nigga i go in all night

Smack yo ass with a pistol,

I don't need no single

Okay you dancing drinking on your last one

Telling me that life stinks, he craves a gun;

My balls die for the thug life

Sky high, iced out paradise

I feel it in my veins like blood ecstasy and life

Married to this rap shit, tell em' throw the rice