This is a song about "Get your hands out of your pockets and sit down"

And if you had more street cred then you'd be dead

Son, you think your good, get it out of your head,

Sit down, take out a pencil and take some notes bro,

But i’m worth it though work this shit so perfect though

Open and take your heart out of your chest

Rare shit, trend setting yea i be the best

I got a love jones for your body and skin tone

The food made by your hands had a blessing of its own

Shots fired, get your head down

My name is timb aka thomas crown

Calm down, and talk out your ambitions with me

Got some pocket change too, now ya workin' baby

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

A waste reaching in the pockets of the working to support your habits