This is a song about "Him and cigarettes"

But i'm from jers' and we don't play that shitfrom the clare down to north bricks, all my niggas flipping chips

No more fucking cigarettes lit, no more stupid ass presentations and useless magazine ad bits

And i hope you told him

Hmmm where should i begin

I got some fire and shit

Him, and motherfucking pounded

But i couldnt stop him from smoking all those cigarettes

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

Bodies break down and still smoking cigarettes,

And a nigga so fly i should be droved in jets

For a pack of cigarettes

After lebron, i'm what's next

Monday through monday we be cashing checks

Smoking crews like good weed or cigarettes

Lies, tangled with fiction

And chickie's never loved him