This is a song about "Haters and money"

So many haters, callin' me faker, money maker.

I’m throwing hundreds at kod, a little paper

See, welcome to fame where most of us is gon' change

But screw the fake player-haters, their pain, anger, and rage,

Haters hate and i wave my hand like i'm fucking imperious

Wish you niggas father understood where the condom was

Can’t tell your girl so she the center fold

Turn money into diamonds and gold

Lets come up to my city

Young money like drake and nicki

And big money like hulk

Off jump boo, cudi give you funk

And when we on the road, bitches follow the tour bus

Haters are lame, and they sloppy as seconds

Them niggas lack bars like underground when their celly ring

Never fading, and i know the haters are forever waiting