This is a song about "Hood life"

My suppressor on tight, and bitch im playing rob 'n' hood

A couple milli in the bag and my face good

Call the crib, same number same hood

Lobsters and shrimp im good

And when the smoke clears don’t you dare ask who could

That's right bitches, i aint from the hood

I bet they thought they'd never see a big gone good

With so many others still stuck in the hood

Living out of bags

Trapping with the hood rats

I’m picturing that body like a camera phone would

Just cause im not shootin, smoking, or crippin in the hood