This is a song about "It all about me"

Loud p.o.t. above y’all, patron at 4 am, fuck the last call

I don't give a fuck about you 'cuz i'm mocking it all,

Pete wilson trying to see us all broke, i'm on some bullshit

Tell me, would you brag about the cash, you've never had it,

But i never worry about it cuz they only envy me

You niggas comedy, i'm laughing at you probably

Once mr. woods was all good, now a nigga only

We all will be talking about me by next week you'll see/

Say you could tell us all about it, no you couldn’t g,

For shootin' done to you or we're losin' money

We got stripes in my city, ain't none of my niggas yankees though

And i ain't about to throw it all away so i can give it up (ohh)

But it don't feel half as good as grandma saying she's proud

So come against me bitch and see what all my bars are about,

Pessimistic we are, carry odds like luggage

Tellin me not to think about it too much