This is a song about "Ghetto guns money"

Thats tryin to move out the ghetto

In the club like fuck it, though

But this ain't physics or rocket science

Artillery weak with guns

She said she’s from the ghetto

Got some ill gold, diamonds thats still low

The road to hell is paved with good intentions

Wait, don't they sell the terrorist's guns?

With two chicks, sadistic

Remember my guns like a mic,

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

But i dont carry guns

Without the sound of guns

These chalance give me balance