This is a song about "Rippin bongs"

Destiny approaches, above the bar rippin quotas

Next month i want that plus, money long as your tour bus

Fuckin' up my prestige, till i live with the blues

Born a brute, hitting bongs n' zoots im lost in youth

Only rippin raps up like a fuckin horror flick yep

Threw the sack to his lil' niggas workin the set

Simply wanna kick back, rippin on a sick track

Shit, that birkin bag make the old dude mad

We got soul but no control, like john rambo rippin' throats

A mansion with marble floors, and security codes

Pack it up thirty minutes to the jet leaves

Im rippin the game you have your pants at your heels