This is a song about "Jr the fattu"

In the coupe with the tec, it's the home of the brave

He said that he rather put the pump to his face

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Run a cartel like a real rick ross

Yea, smoking loud enjoying my youth

From the gutter to the roof

The good comes with the bad, the bad with the ugly

You just servin yourself, go pull up to pump three

Down the street to the car,

Slumdog far apart any sub par

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

It’s me and my nigga there until i’m a millionaire

Bitch i'm ballin' like i'm comin' off of free throws

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

P stand for pacqiauo nigga

I bring the heat like the