This is a song about "I aint worried bout them"

Them boys be talking ’bout their bitches

Bring the battering ram where you live

But fuck that, i aint bout to miss my fucking chance

It's odd that they say that the crack kill blacks

Or a uniformed man, i'm tryna uniform 10 million men

Puffin' on stramonium. 'bout to go pro like joe and them/

But i let off everything i have

Yes, sir - thank god kinda worried 'bout my ass

Got her the bently coup, she call that old news

Told you i ain't worried, i ain't scared of the booth

But spit them rhymes like me , couse i aint never ever wrong

Police on your mama phone, talking bout your baby gone

Done put them percs down, think i'm 'bout to relapse

Harder to quit, the cigarettes and green bags