This is a song about "Jacob bream"

Like sally mae on college debt

Get twisted in ya head

I’ma show you why the ring finger need a peace sign

To the white lies or white lines that constantly define

Forget the hindsight, hood dreams, diamond white,

Studio fifty four if we get the props right

You're the john mccain to his robert e. lee/

And you ain't bothered a bit now, baby

The poor stay poor, only the rich get status

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

At dinner with hov hoping that he pass the baton

U ask for forgivness i know we all ain't holy st. john

Father fuckin her, older man fuckin her sis

That shit was ludicrous/ her pussy smelt like tuna-fish

The rhythm gets into your head.

We can’t even talk ‘less you got the check