This is a song about "Making money in new york o streets"

My ass funky like a cab driver in new york city, pass the class,

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

My rhymes, new york states of minds, lyrical crimes, in fact

Say she like my style but i talk too fast

If i'll be a king of new-york i wouldn't change

I was taught to act my shoe size, never my age

Got bitches in new york california and decatur

If its not couture, i will not go to her

The game and making new sounds

Heystop running your mouth

To this day, the game, will never be the same

New york rules, can't tell me nothin' in the game,

New york runs the rap game, can't tell the best?

That i can only love you when you undressed