This is a song about "Guns money drugs"

Carry guns bro only guns you got is muscles

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

I’m lost without them, when they around i am charles sheen

Is money, drugs, hoes, violence washed up routine

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

Although weight gets you paper, i pray you're weighing your options

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

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

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

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

And he was married to my grandmother for money n drugs

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

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

Now it's 6 2's on closed curtains

You can't evade my guns,