This is a song about "Real tragic streets"

I decided to boss up, life's a bitch and i court her

No magic, these leaders, it's tragic no need to breathe, the heater

You're walking these streets,

Get blown like lawn leaves

Tryna kill my dreams

Betta stay outta the streets

Puts the pieces of decomposing bodies in plastic

Arose/ from broken boulevards, story tragic

Little more weed, first class seats

I kept runnin through the streets

With a pen and pad its, all so tragic

Called that bitch my quaterback, wild cat all that

Streets became home to me/ like a mother to be/ the streets

Maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some fucking skinny jeans

Trap our young black seeds

You're walking these streets,