This is a song about "Money whips and chains"

87, brick fare, yeah, i’m talking thirty racks

Crap rappers wear gold chains and hold stacks

Locked in chains of rhymes and cuffed in beats,

Can barely walk the city streets

Ambition is priceless that’s something in your veins

Bitch in chains us switching lanes and terrains had the chains at the trains

The diamonds and the chains, closet of sheep coats,

Fly nigga couldn't tell me nothing different homes

And all this snow, i call it infant sorrow

We see stars and jack whips, police cars are like beasts though,

Funny how my niggas are obsessed with money, whips, and chains,

To the point that he just breaks, snaps, and it's all it takes

I wanna grab your wrists and strain some chains

For the occasion, paper planes

My father's dead, well i don't know, we'll never fucking meet

Without the whips and chains it's still displayed the ways that they would bleed