This is a song about "Hanging out at the crib"

Call the crib, same number same hood

Fistful of wood, twisted for the good

Never alone we 'bout to make the drums cry

All corners of the globe got the world hanging from my

As i take you through a ghetto nigga's lullaby

I was at the crib wit my girls you can call me lizzy i

Ballin out, showin out, at the rendezvous

Bitches dissappoint you but money won’t ever stress you

Meanwhile in the ghetto the blood leaked from hanging rugs,

And all we lack is communication like service sucks

Waiting on mom to bring me the aspirin from a trampoline jump

He tosses out it out the window, arrives at his apartment,

Hypochondriac, hanging out at the laundromat

So if he die, and came back, would he try to save rap

No car you can see me hanging out at the bus stop

Dressin' down like a villian', but only on the block