This is a song about "Rolling hundreds"

Rolling with my yankees hat on

And i can see us after school, we'd bomb

Deep into her soul, slow, now he's in controlpop's doing worse, a victim of his deadly curse

So many of us, must be seven hundreds, many proppers and eleven others

Rolling up a blunt so we can elevate

Type of nigga to jerk off to his own sex tape

I just want somebody i can see

Rolling down the street in my suv

She on media take out, but don't take out her kids

Keep spendin hundreds til im buried in one hundreds

Batting my head with a rolling pin

The deadly places slingin drugs, in thug's mansion