This is a song about "Money clothes hoes"

If we ain't right and always at the throats

Goodwill or salvation army full of clothes,

Every morning calls his comrade to come and get him to smoke

Sacrivicing your money for food on hoes you'll end up hungry and broke.

Is money, drugs, hoes, violence washed up routine

I be ahead of these niggas last king guillotine

But youre there and the fuzz shaking the drugs out your clothes

Alot of episodesand as the glock loads

Looking for sum hoes with no clothes

This is oh so much like getting votes

With this rap shit, you know i do the fucking most

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

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

The hoes, the clothes, you niggas are just like clones

You chasing hoes, we replacing hoes, bag and pass them hoes

I'm chasing money, not the liquor, y'all ain't even close