This is a song about "Guns drugs money depression"

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*)

Nigga, i got that dilla, premo, swizzy flow

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

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

You caught me in a state of depression

Thought you was a cutie, though your booty mad thin

Everything at ease, you in double m g presence

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

Fuck rappin' about smokin' drugs, they hurtin' your lungs, tons, of guns.

Soon as para finite will paralyze her existence

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

My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks