This is a song about "Growing up making money my boy bpatt and duschene my fam"

Stressin to become the first in my fam to go to college/

And you can tell by the chiseled horns on my forehead bitch

Money come and money go still money problems addin up

But she only fuck with boss niggas - lames, you outta luck

Bolt up my door lock, been hearing money talks

They rap they're ass off and don't nobody like their songs

I'm constantly providing for my fam and i'm earning checks,

Ironic this verse was conceived while drivin’ a lex

Ain't like my job or guys i employ

Git out my face looking boy

My territory you're making elvis turn gay, hey! and i'm not afraid

So play this shit while you contemplate, contemplate, contemplate

Away the tragedy, so i stay sucker free

You ain't know nothing about me and my money

About my son growing up without the best mom ever mentioned.

I remember tripping, walking through the set like my glock don’t think