This is a song about "People who cut in line"

But in people eyes i'm just a residence who never gonna be right.

American dreaming, days of a heathen running up in your building at night

No more waiting in a line

Corduroys, cam will shine

Amounts to crap you had in every line

All the young motherfuckers that was took in they prime

People standing in line, waiting for a chance to berate me

You got ben's arranged money, have a benz or range money

I can hear the bells ringing off the nice dream truck

So i told her thats wassup, then we chillin in the cut

People who were mean to me, my slave, in chains, admitting they were clowns

I step through the stomach, replace the baby with some fucking pounds

What's in line, man? who to trust?!

Fuck around dawg, get ya head bust

Put 'em all in a line

Fight for what broad, these hoes ain't mine