This is a song about "Health"

Say a prayer and hope that the poor can find health care,

Please, just peep the crystal method where

Poor, working-class enclaves who can't afford health care,

Everybody put three fingers in the air

The way i look walk and talk and i dont think its good for my health

Fall in love with defeat, throw my endeavors on the shelf

Sell his soul to devil to take away b.i.g's health

I’m just multiplying my money and dividing the legs

Tap my partner roscoe like bruh, i'm drunk as hell can't you tell

Weighing on my self like a scale is my health the true hell

Seeing them exercise as they try to be fit in health

I'm the c.e.o. of diplomat records, i sign myself

You ain't gotta stare, go cop a pair

Striving, working nine to five with no health care

But i aint going to kill myself, i aint going to kill my health,

Nigga with too much to say, you might make a fool of yourself