This is a song about "Matt riley"

Although weight gets you paper, i pray you're weighing your options

Think you're fresh? talk to will smith. i've rocked these hills since

And really don't matter unless y'all coming with

Fifty grand in my pants like ivy smith

You watch your mouth around my mama you couldn't cuss mani had a down ass homie though; we ran the streets

Rolling thunders is all i hear every night when a nightmare escapes from my agitated sleeps

Prps cover my eight’s, uhh, lemme switch my pace

Through the cloudy nights and stormy days

Fortifying boundaries, not glorifying cloudy seas/

That's why i get cut like i don't fuck with the coach knees

This track rips, a smith and wesson is my protection

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

My fists are weapons, don't need the smith and wesson,

No fx, in these doper than sess sessions son