This is a song about "Nico the italian"

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Black fours red drop head doors

Yeahpour out a little liquor for your homies nigga

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

If you was, i would climb every other stair, i gotta stare

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

We in control, the people know i speak the truth

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

Embrace my words make the world changeand still i smile nigga

This the ambition anthem, i flowed it to the flag

No matter if you black, once you go italian you won't back,

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

Faggot talk shit you'll get whacked call me italian.

To all the sisters with ambition, i see your hustle

Idolizing the struggle of italian guys in a scuffle