This is a song about "Georgian stores"

Loot banks, rob stores and call yo mamma a whore

Woodstock though, couple bands on the floor

Black people get followed it stores, mindless locked in prison,

With a tear they try to tell me but i never listen

At stores they feed into me gettin all sweaty and nervous

And we way too young to know love, maybe not but we don't need no rush

*cough cough*, that's some potent shit oh there go police man

When my first lp drops the stores will be overran

And constant doin' stick-ups, flip up, friends would rob grocery stores,

It's going down in history, the way i valet two doors

They say the money talks and bullshit walks

The ghetto misery, shootouts and liquor stores

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers

Some go to country clubs, while others grub, drown at liquor stores,