This is a song about "Hundreds"

So many of us, must be seven hundreds, many proppers and eleven others

Deep into her soul, slow, now he's in controlpop's doing worse, a victim of his deadly curse

Keep spendin hundreds til im buried in one hundreds

Go and get it motherfucker, if you murder kids

I’m throwing hundreds at kod, a little paper

And maybe one day his kids, something that he'll live for

I don't care who exist, the exorcist moving bricks

The bold dope lines, now the cash in the hundreds,

I'm a victim of the money, of the cash in the hundreds,

Because your booty mad thick behind them juicy ass lips