This is a song about "Poverty line"

But most of the time

Through you under the avc line

I'm kobe in an orange jersey

Breeds from the poverty,

All we got now is crime, death, sickness, and poverty,

‘bout that money probly like a fucking robbery

Haha, i'm on the grind, niggas know the time

My hypothesis is drawn fine line

It ain't nothing to me, i’m who they coming to see

Who will free us from the chains of poverty

Your trying to rhyme from line to line,

Go like i never seen a red light shine

Paralyzed to the feeling, all the hate i see

We was dead at our first breath, born into poverty

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

It’s ironic how i drop some dough when i got them homer simpsons, look