This is a song about "Money cars hoes fake niggas struggle pain hustle"

Heneesee, makes me think my enemy is getting close

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes,

They talk about the flash clothes, cars, money, cash hoes,

You got your mean little walk with the model pose

All they talk about is money, weed, and cars/

Slangin' rocks with your glocks put this tape in your box

But it was written in cursive for this king to exist

It's an everyday struggle we hustle and remain the nicest

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

Best believe i'm leaving with more of those

I represent, but still i need the cars, the hoes, the freshest kicks,

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

Tired of the pain tired of the struggle

Fumble or you crumble, get murked on the humble

I can tell you that this tape

And my niggas say that dope is fake