This is a song about "Old roads"

Where i from, it get cold

Then those bitches who grew old.

Ignorant denim no wonder i got mad kicks

Out of roads grow the brightest flowers of the mix,

These wack bitches getting old

The truth shall be told

The roads i saw no pave, only spark and boozy

A single mother with a problem child, daddy free

This my album, and when your parents try to come around

No dough she was broke as she blowed the clowns on the roads in town

You see when i was 19 years old

Can’t tell your girl so she the center fold

A mansion with marble floors, and security codes

I pray to god and stay in squad, walkin' through these lonely roads,

Black woman you cold

And don't think what you're old