This is a song about "Money on thr ground"

Never knew a hooker that could share me, i get around

Ain wrestling it rugged like chippins on the ground

My knees on the ground, dear father

I got something you've been waiting for

I spit that garden of game, look at the hoes on him

Down to the floor on the ground with the blood pourin'

And all we lack is communication like service sucks

Got your bitch on the ground sucking on my nuts (my nuts)

See him on the ground blood splattered

Mixed cocktails, shaken not stirred

This my album, and when your parents try to come around

Fucker, call it noun, trap for the town, grind with both feet on the ground,

A mans on the ground, and thats not whipped cream

Bars crazy of course i'm living the dream