This is a song about "Grams and kilograms"

Yeahehehehe nigga, we be the ballin player-ass nigga

No more cutting grams, and wrapping grands up in rubberbands, i'm a

Translation cause my life is too sweet

And kill yourself and your clique

She keep her eyes open and her fucking mouth closed

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,

Living young and wild and free

We ain't hear to hurt nobody

Your bitch fuck us up: every nigga that she meet

Look like james vanderbeek on eight grams of tweak,

If i could do it all again, have just one more chance

I bring the tension in bricks, your raised it up a couple grams,

Misogyny and homophobia, guns and crimes and,

Make martin luther tell god i'm the future for heaven's talent

I hate rap like kramer hate blacks

You wont catch me shifting grams