This is a song about "Guns and thugs"

Poor black people seen as on welfare and lazy thugs,

Stay gold, stray old, maturing means that your life sucks

Face down, ass up, ain't none of my bitches planking though

We bone em like thugs n harmony nash em and go

When i get my hands on nines

Im starting to see guns and knives

Misled by mtv and bet, turning to thugs,

European model white bitch is eating donuts

Not caring for lives, only profit and guns

We'll shoot em up with they own fuckin weapons

Half my peers, they're stretched for years

And my guns are directors

Dead man beside em and he takes his guns and mags

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

Rullette russian rappers and guns related they cousins,

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips