This is a song about "Juice boxes"

Workin' in stations, fixin' up boxes, grabs paper sheets, writin' down rhymes//

But you know women lieits like i sent my love with a text two times

White coke, tan dope, black gun, trey deuce

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

Sometimes i think, what i need

Three lunch boxes a week,

Feeling obnoxious, shoved into lockers and boxes, prominent,

I take a sip of hennessy and then get pissy drunk

I was sitting here, braid dead, hooked up on cookies and juice,

My own worst enemy so fuck it either way i can't lose

I’m at dulles with luggage fly straight to the money

Cause they putting us in boxes now i'm breaking us free

Wake up in your livin' room, calm, relaxed, gin and juice,

You would think that i had a match for a tooth