This is a song about "Guns drugs money depression"

No gimmick: real time, real heart

My depression hit hard/

Destroying a set of lives just for ice, money, and drugs

And all we lack is communication like service sucks

I'm on the verge of excellence kill em off with no evidence

If you're black, you're always a thug, and you have drugs and guns

Then it's back to the corner where we sell cracksome of you niggas is bustas, you running round

Money drugs and women seem to be the only the the radio can play! (*white noise sound*)

My position improving, not to mention

You caught me in a state of depression

My nigga made it, we just young, living the dream

Is money, drugs, hoes, violence washed up routine

Still no drugs, guns, knives or lives lost.

Tell me anything you want

Got a sweet sixteen and they deadlier than sin

My rapping moves on ,from the depression