This is a song about "Money weed fucking bitches"

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

Chillin back smoking weed writing raps and fucking hoes

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

Bail was a quarter mill, they put me in a box

I just reflect on how i ain't met you, yet boo

Bitches dissappoint you but money won’t ever stress you

Told them i love it when bitches roll up my weed for me

And i don’t know why you sucker niggas can’t see

Those bitches are on standby gasping fucking breathlessly,

Wish you was around now to see what i've become see

1 for the money, 2 for the bitches

And i've been uplifting the people i'm with

My weed is just like your head i fucking hit it.

Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit