This is a song about "Primary growth secondary growth leaf and cuticle guard cell and stoma stem roots and leaves woody and no woodsy plants"

And the only block he's reppin' is a h-block cell

Like dammit you the shit you do it so well

I drink blood, and im parched, so you better guard

Cause i, am feeling this deep down in my heart

Seeds and roots and leaves of money trees, cream by any means,

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

Your bitch is a hood bitch you can find up in these streets

Become a coach designer of body bags and coca leaves

And you ain't gettin' it, 'til you start payin' jewels

And now his house is modest too, he went and forgot his roots,

Story of cudi, nigga getting out my dreams

The burning flesh and twisted mouth and blood on the leaves,

And people don’t care if they’re locked up in a prison cell,

Calling niggas really knowing they dont give a hell

I know just what you need nigga that know when to leave

I'm scatter brained and frazzled deep, shaking like a leaf