This is a song about "New deal critics"

Y'all need to know, you cynical hypocritical critics,

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

I won't say i won yet, leave that to the critics,

Needed coke, needed dope, yea, i gave her a fix

Motherfucking faces , we deal

But ain't gonna be no stress in here

Raising my fingers to critics

And shrimp might run and tell the pigs

You deal with your life and i'll deal with mine

Let me put my funk on this one time

Asked amir about my deal

You light-years behind here

Well, i have a gram cupcake mix

Put on a clinic for these critics

Eat the shit rap feeds me then regurgitate it on you critics,

Cuz she came back with the kid and yoi been payin ever since