This is a song about "Money and boobs"

You aint strapped like saggy boobs

I go to war, old timbs, battered boots

Yeah, and i ain't saying that i'm nas here

Like money, cash, and shit all was real

Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed

Turn money into diamonds and gold

Put them out randomly hopin' that i get some

Fuck the money and public opinion

Hustle for money and making livings

But the battle ain't over till the black man sings

And when theres booze their is boobs

I still got my nike boots

Money come and money go still money problems addin up

Backing up, like juvenile biggest fan was a moving truck

And cash money supermarket like seth,

Carefree i don’t need the stress