This is a song about "Rob"

See you gotta get high or die, cause even thugs cry

On here she met rob, he seemed like a good guy

Rob you on the street with the nine

Private plane, my seat recline

When rob and dez was in the ball pit

Just pour me a glass of that dark shit

A couple milli in the bag and my face good

I was a youngin they was tryna rob a kid

It's going down in history, the way i valet two doors

And constant doin' stick-ups, flip up, friends would rob grocery stores,

I see a problem with the people, they let government rob em

Only her and i knownow i'm sitten' in tha state pen

Rob tutors, book bags and yet still they call

I get brain everyday; i'm a know it all