This is a song about "If it aint about cash nigga i dont understand"

You can't be wiping your ass

I get it, you got cash,

I dont care about the fame

Things'll never be the same

But its only if you allow it and nigga i dont allow shit

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit

Pussy nigga want it he aint even know he was on scope

Your album sound like some shit a fake wiz khalifa papa wrote

And showing you and yours that breaking rules is fucking cool again

Im the souths slaughterhouse dont doubt whatchu aint thought about, i dont bring em

I dont care if you wann hear the story im fucking telling it

See this what happens when you rap like you ain't no ones favorite

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Get in bitch, dont worry, it aint scary