This is a song about "Rap gang gold money gs cash banks"

Like money, cash, and shit all was real

But ain't gonna be no stress in here

I'm a victim of the money, of the cash in the hundreds,

And if you disagree, suck a couple pimple-covered dicks

I'm just saying rap's dead when i'm not here

Like money, cash, and shit all was real

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

States the fate of an artist bent on brooklyn banks/

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

Let me be angry or sad, that gets my rap into the cash.

Like the olympics these youngins just won another metal

Capitalistic mental, money and cash is still sick essential,

In this rap game i took his gold, ever since he sold his soul to the devil

For him to be resurrected and get to another level

Saying they this and that

Money fast like eminem's rap