This is a song about "Jacob bream"

I got rhymes for days nigga i'm cold

Sterling silver falls like brittle gold.

I like a broad that has fashion gold,

Plenty smoke, plenty rolled

Only seen family a few like gold

Nudies and some j six, where i’m from it’s cold

It cook up imagination to generations of our nation

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

The ear worms in my head,

Cutting me this worthless check

Bitch i'm delivering gold,

Hand to hand in the cold