This is a song about "Money and sex"

Of you wannabes rapping bout thugs,drugs, and sex,

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

Now i'm playin' solitaire patient

I got money mind and money on my wrist

Got my fame, the reputation, and the money.

Fuck it its mmg, ima cross of def poetry and potent tree

Drugs, sex, killing and lots of madness

Let's roll a j and pretend we in love

A depressed mess accepting empty sex and left bereft of love expressed

When you next to medo you wanna test me ?put your tired head on my chest

And this world's mine, but the womb is hers

The ones talkin bout sex, money, && wrappers

"money and blood don't mix

She likes the way it hits her lips

And in love with her, lets have sex

Monday through monday we be cashing checks