This is a song about "Guns drugs money depression"

All i wanna do is sit back and watch you move and i'll proceed to throw this cash

Forget it its in the past memories pass i rather not rap about guns, drugs, and ass,

Lotta rapper thugs talking bout bitches, money trees, and drugs

I'm out bk with these fast girls and all my cash good i miss slow bucks

I took my rap money and i went and brought some guns tho

At times i look in the mirror to boost my fucking ego

Catch you up on places i've been

That the world's in great depression

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

And to pretend as if 2pac is not these dudes intentions

Thought you was a cutie, though your booty mad thin

Confession! i've never even heard of depression

Still no drugs, guns, knives or lives lost.

Cause my mother let me do what i want