This is a song about "Health"

Please, just peep the crystal method where

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

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

Cause it'll never be the same hereso i wipe away the tears

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

The silver-lining couldn't find 'em up on any shelf

Do u wanna end up insane with a a bad mental health

Everybody coming home deserve a white benz

And they just make me angry so i’m crazy, maybe i’m cynical,

My rhymes are biddable, physical, clinical to your health even critical

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

You need to grow up and maybe pay more attention in health class.

Here nigga on the road

If skill was health you'd be on coke

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

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