This is a song about "Life money gambling family cars"

And left a burden on my soul until i was old enough

I'll spit about money,life,women, i spit all kinds o' stuff

Thinkin you're so good cause you got money, cars, and fame,

Cause i'll +bolt+ on usain, i'm too ahead of the game

Cause see way back, i thought to fuck with you was impossible

To say life goes on, now they're counting money on the table

They talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,

And them hating ass niggas, we ain’t like those

Not pussy weed money bullshit, my life through pain

But i'm a hustler, in my heart, trapped is the game

Poppa took the television, but left the radio

The money, cars, and clothes, the riches and dough,

The ones who wanted their family to have a little money

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes

But all i hear is "money, hoes, i'm the shit, cars and chains",