This is a song about "My jordan s"

And coulda retired at 29 in my 20′s still

Loud pack, i propel. burgandy, out to kill

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

That say he better than jordan, hey dennis you must be kidding

When i run b-town i got size 11's on my feet

This is what the devil plays before he goes to sleep

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

Don't worry. im steady busting these 3's just like my nigga stephen curry,

It’s sick and spiteful, 2pac’s twisted grim disciple

Welcome to the euphoria of cocaine without able

Scratch my back all of that it get s me crazed

And i feared that my fans say i failed

Monday through monday we be cashing checks

Jordan on my shoes, i got the eights and tens

The .45 for you niggas with nine lives

Im hungrier than jordan with no rings