This is a song about "Niggas and strippers and hoes and weed and cars and ghetto and sagging and ebonics"

My hands grabbing everything in sight, and my pants sagging,

From los angee area anytime i'm fucking landing

Hold up now don’t get it twisted, i ain't hating, do your thing

My hands grabbing everything in sight, and my pants sagging,

Bubbling above the elevated tracks and cars

Forearm with my gang name, that's an old carve

Rapping as i'm mocking deaf rock stars

And it is to drive in all these fancy cars

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service

And in my ghetto weed was a typical stuff

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose

Islamics and those few broke folks who spoke ebonics,

Smokin' weed like it ain't no thing, so even kids

I seen a lot of niggas change over weed and lean,

Your developmental league don’t see a team