This is a song about "Growing up in a bad home no food no water dog died school burned"

For a fucken dog i guess there is no hope

See it's simply greed, it's such a need to say your broke

This pain she inherit can't be reversed

I heard them again, and the flame no longer burned

No rhyme is a bad rhyme

Welcome to organized crime

You're faker than a german hot-dog with no mustard,

From the ghetto to the 'burbs, know we meant, every word

Yeahpour out a little liquor for your homies nigga

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

Get my employees up on food stamps and work in fast food,

When i'm fuckin' and we on cloud nine for that minute

I give him a helping hand, bring him out to thugz mansion

Brave to take up a revoked fame, no shame i stepped in