This is a song about "Hoffman s coffins"

This what it sound like if i sent my dad letters

Money, cash, hoes, 420's the cleverest verse,

Clicquot for the girls in the tight dress

If only i could go back into the 80’s

S queezys very bold

Plenty smoke, plenty rolled

Bitch niggas be afraid to speakwe the last ones left

S on my chest like a superman vest

We don't believe you, you need more people

It’s sick and spiteful, 2pac’s twisted grim disciple

And that´s how it has begun

I'm a son of a gun

So here i am at the store for some chips

And put trash rappers inside of coffins