This is a song about "Guns kush bitches hoes club rhymes gangsta crip blood"

I'm chasing money, not the liquor, y'all ain't even close

And y'all talk constantly, about all of your bitches and hoes,

Fuck nazis ' hoes and fuck illuminati's bitches

That you can't fit inside a jansport, go to school with this

You got your mean little walk with the model pose

I could talk about diamonds and all my bitches and hoes,

Standing flat footed, i’m on my toes

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

And i laid some rhymes for you on this funky gangsta beat

But if you're not dying don't fucking bother to call me back, i'm sleep

Rhymes flow through me like blood

That shit was wack as fuck

Blood on the floor, now all the bitches crying

‘cause he could die any day and you still the same thing

You ain't a crip like snoop you ain't a blood like game

She my billie jean we menage with mary jane