This is a song about "My homie s"

You gotta breathe and be at ease

But meanwhile my 16's screaming like "peeps please"

The beggars can't borrow, the record sales drop

.4’s for 15, yea my niggas we be taxing a lot

I’m stuntin’ the ferragamo, i’m running that medal pace

Had to leave my nigga, homie got an open case

Bonded with the children of zion, my mind is s-s-s-so divine.

Remember when i used to call you on your phone line

College degree, scores on my s a t, shit, please,

And i know - there'll never be peace