This is a song about "Herb"

Nothing i'mma do is gon work

Like i'm a moldy old herb

For the sake of rhyme, throw in herb dean

The bitches is everything in between

I never smiled as a juvenile

Stay powered by herb and a big fuckin pile

Smoking on that fluffy herb the shit the police confiscate

Must be part of some big plan to keep a brotha in tha state

Feelin so lit from smokin some herb, in the suburb,

From the ghetto to the 'burbs, know we meant, every word

That bitch was racist, got me fired

That hit heights like junkies who pound herb.

Than i rob you and smoke all your herb

I ain't trynna be forward