This is a song about "Pocket full of dreams"

And tired of his shit and tries to just split

Everything is just full of shit.

Its differs, with options, killing of his dreams

Know what they mean, everything ain't what it seems

Full of this unbridled passion

Catch you up on places i've been

No wonder why when times get hard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

I'm why baby mamas leave

Thinkin of the the dreams

... club, we'll be actin' real nice

Bust out the green and pocket full of cheese

Full of futile exercises, for a future full of bars

Nobody rep for the skins, they busy cheering them stars

I have a pocket full of dreams, but not the jeans yet

But my crib was straight ahead, shorty gave me head