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

Right past the poor in clothes they can't afford

That's why they kick with homies, what? back in new york,

Ethnic whites in new york city, tight-knit, keep close,

Ever wonder exactly where the sun goes

I was watching, remote pleaseniggas want what they can't have

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

Killin' all the way from new york and east detroit,

Know i had to do a jay dilla joint

Little more weed, first class seats

Played our beats on the streets

I know i ain’t perfect, i’m out here working for the throne

Your still in your crib at home while i'm making the streets a war zone

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free

But hates it when im in the streets makin some money