This is a song about "I am a pro"

I spit non-fiction,rather than pro-fiction causes you affliction

I smoke the greenest of medicine till the government let us win

Imma fucking pro, nigga, i stay composed

Seven years old in my heart, so i'm stayin' gold

All the time with this glock of mines

I thought i was pro with my clever lines

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

I am spitting rhymes out like i am a type of robot

You get your girl for something tight tomorrow

I'm doing this shit quid pro quo like a charity throw.

I was in a drive by,killed the lights like a pro as i glide by

But now that we're free, let's be gone, you got me blazing high

Momma said i am a hell

And bad bitches give me head and tell