This is a song about "Gun and crime"

Cuz she came back with the kid and yoi been payin ever since

Sick of seeing crime and rape and all this bitter ass violence,

Coz i got gun and my butterfly

Them other niggas smoke, they ain't this high

And there's no poverty or crime and you're a neighborhood,

By the little camera thing on the fuckin' mac book

I shoot you and kill ya homie, with the same damn nine

When black males are stereotyped and arrested for crime,

He pushing cause his goal's to be higher with the lord

Think of a crime, and it probably was my fault

Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free

All we got now is crime, death, sickness, and poverty,

On murder and the rising crime rates, pimps and prostitutes,

Plus how he gon’ tell me, he don't make the rules

Tear 'em up, each and every son, with any gun,

Forever in debt to the lord for he's given