This is a song about "Guns drugs money depression"

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

Fuck a video vixen, they got vicious intentions

Hit strip clubs find bitches with big butts

No money, power, or drugs,

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

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

Prps cover my eight’s, uhh, lemme switch my pace

I've met depression on numerous days

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

And all we lack is communication like service sucks

Bomaye, killa cam, my lord

Still no drugs, guns, knives or lives lost.

I know just what you need nigga that know when to leave

Sell drugs, shoot guns, make you yell "oh!", now you pushin up daisies

That mean im overflowin all you rappin niggas in cups

And he was married to my grandmother for money n drugs