This is a song about "My bros"

These my rhymes and my story

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

My words are my rhythm

So now she picks up the gun

All these 12 year old bros turning into hoes, its so bad i feel like calling the

Troublesome niggahahaha, troublesome 19-motherfuckin'-96let it be known nigga

You no good like a stripper with a "a" cup

I can survive with my bros and some luck...

My rhymes propellers, words my instrument

Unify them, mob through, take over and

My compulsion/ concerning my transaction in my cabin/

And stay focused on the women and you get less done