This is a song about "Made for it"

My marble floors are killing, gold cars are so relentless

No excuse for your actions, it was you who made me do this

Made a living and a killing off it

As deep as dawson's creek and shit

Buzz it, like my very first day in here

For real my fists are made of steal

I'm faking?/ but don't come asking for handouts if a young nigga made it

I am sick of women treatin' niggas like that lotto ticket

A single mother with a problem child, daddy free

Im not made for this is realistically

It ain't where i been

We made it to perfection

 it happens so fast it made me sick,

She wanna tear the mall down throwin’ stacks quick