This is a song about "National association of chiefs of police"

Win the grand national, i'll get some capital,

But don't expect a ring if you committed to the hustle

Should've played quarterack fo the chiefs

Ass shots in her seven jeans

Last bit of haze to blaze,everyday was like another police chase,running through the block

So i needs to hit a lick, drasticallyi see some balding-ass niggas and they slipping in my spot

Take her back to where i live

Of the book of your life

For local and national attention,

You're uncool like my mother kin

And i ain't spend a minute up in the streets

Running around the streets screaming fuck the police

And a nigga so fly i should be droved in jets

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts