This is a song about "Poor childhood"

My bitches fuck me good

I had a hard childhood,

Care to tell, i read your mind, she been on them dollars first

Memories of my childhood contain nothin' but hunger and thirst

Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her

It's poor whites and poor blacks, still they hate each other,

Rollin’ and chokin’ and movin’ slow motion, i’m floatin' on good

Only way that i know how to escape from this childhood

Got a little too much confidence and seem shook

Taking it back to to the same street from my childhood

World on my shoulders as i run back to this my childhood

And i don't cook much but i'm tough with that phone book

Off to work i go, back to this childhood

I got a fetish for fresh, i'm a clean crook

But she only fuck with boss niggas - lames, you outta luck

I had messed up childhood, my uncle fucked me in the butt