This is a song about "Poverty"

Ridin’ round, and this bitch dirty

Breeds from the poverty,

I moved you up to hills, out the ills of the ghetto hood

And there's no poverty or crime and you're a neighborhood,

Let's get off the phone and we can speak when i see you

How ironic, leave them in poverty, don't believe? that's true,

Sometimes you go stores and buy everything that you see

Violence, crime, famine, lack of structure, poverty,

That's gon' make it hard to smile in the futurebut through whatever you see

Korrupt kats that's jocking me, poverty, possibly a oligarchy economy

Famine, poverty, barren atrocity

Busta-ass motherfuckers tried to flee

On top of me the feds, economy's poverty, gotta be the heads,

And that's a better reason to for me to take advantage with sex

‘bout that money probly like a fucking robbery

To my niggas everywhere who go through harsh poverty,