This is a song about "Pocket rocks"

Get the zippo and spark the shit

You easy stealing picked pocket,

Watching for hollow-tip shots

And grow up to smoke rocks.

Heard the sound of several gun shots

One night, i was selling some rocks

No one give a damn when they breathe in the least bit

1 & 1 doesn't equal crack rock in ya back pocket,

Because there ain't no coming back from that

Guns in the waistband, blunts in the pocket

Keep a gram in my pocket,

Uh, yea yea, turn me up a lil bit

Got the game on lock in my pocket

It ain't my place to say and i hear all that