This is a song about "Hierarchy of needs"

And now that i’m getting money

Maybe he needs a little therapy

Therefore we soon will have more needs

Livin like a thief, runnin through the streets

That needs some type of life form

Luck on my brim supreme keeps me warm

Selling us our own chains. confuse our wants with our needs,

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

There’s niggas dying everyday but we don’t make the news

11. there's still a little part of me that needs to prove,

I cater to the needs of myself the complete opposite

Black foamposites, it's like we on that mobbing shit

Yeah, i never dreamed of a gift

God damn that fucker needs a lift

To my young nationparticipation, more hesitation could turn lethal

Only needs a few drops of oil on his coils to destroy you, he's loyal