This is a song about "My hommie"

My words are my rhythm

For the outlawz, here we come

My own unknown is my enemy,

That bitch bad, looking like a bag of money

Grab my knife and my gun

Cold world no blanket son

I’m coming back like light-skin and

My rhymes propellers, words my instrument

He just get her bigger bags

My shit thigh like my bootstraps

Flow so sick thought he wrote the rap for him - no sir

My leisure, my pleasure, my light, my love, my measure

But now invisible cells around your brain

My cash effected, my brain insane,