This is a song about "Gun dealers"

We #sell #that #dope #shit on the grind, and we ain't talkin' 'bout dealers,

We up in that magic city throwing up them dollars

But girl you got me open

In the car with a gun,

That could make some sense, to make amends, to take a stand, to make it tense

Hence the intensity inner city dealers pocket profit at my expense

Escaping from my fucken gun

I can only imagine

I hit your block and we can box for fun

Your best lines are a rubber band gun

The thunder pounds, the stomach growls escape crack dealers,

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

She’s a star if i ever seen one

Just give me a carrot gun