This is a song about "Girls weed guns"

The road to hell is paved with good intentions

I pack more soul than chicago packs guns,

Not caring for lives, only profit and guns

And even when you crabby, obey all seasons

Weed and rapping weed in jays

I’m turned up, i can’t feel my face

You can't evade my guns,

Guess they ran out of options

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

We bustin' like shot guns

Sweet jesus, where's the weed

Outstanding clout, what up greg street

And my guns are directors

Penncounting pennys over tha years

See, all my life i was raised by a lot of criminals

Carry guns bro only guns you got is muscles