This is a song about "Rob jones"

Remember popping and locking to kurtis blow, the name belts

For things they would rob for, pickin' pockets in the projects,

We the squad, young folarin, out that maybach mob

All my nights i stayed up hopin a nigga don't rob

It’s hip-hop, not pop

I go back to my friend rob.

New dough for the new year and i sumo on a rap peer

Quick fast in and out we rob the servo cashier

I'm going hard for the days i was piss poor

Going to meet rob, and tryin' to act cool

Give me billboards, whatever that people will kill for

Loot banks, rob stores and call yo mamma a whore

See i live up in a shotgun home, niggas think they're prophet jones,

Now son is the only onegrows up in adoption homes