This is a song about "Life with guns"

Because i see right through your disguise

This is solitaire you playing with your life

Maserati’s my birthright car, pass it, i need another hit

Some jack you for your wallet with guns, like "where's it at faggot?"

3m's on my new balance

Without the sound of guns

But with the thug life comes

Good kids make bad grown ups

Pack a bad bitch then i pass it to my nigga meek

Snipers on the rooftops with guns, triggers plant the seed,

Protect it, with ya life

And when i start to rise

I say its a hard life growing up, with no trust with you're parents, hard life

Hit the club and i let it fly, claim you balling nigga telling lies

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

Artillery weak with guns