This is a song about "People that were clothes that dont fit them"

Mad, stealing clothes cause you broke, and you know that

Like bobby had whitney we was cooking up crack

And im rockin plain tees homie fuck that truck fit

A good head on her shoulders, i need to feel that

Getting the clothes for free that i'm wearing

And getting money is the song i sing

So while i hold this bottle of ciroc with a hand full of ass

And that they dont who they are but this will lead them back to the right path

Cuz if i let em out then ima be the one that them people shot

If i'm getting geetchi i can rock three chains on either block

I can't handle it, i don't see fit , i won't fit, could it be, that this is it?

Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that

Alot of episodesand as the glock loads

Learn it by the g code, fire under them street clothes,

Hit the club and i let it fly, claim you balling nigga telling lies

People knew i will survive they were astonished that i am alive