This is a song about "Shooting up rival gangs"

Oh you rival? get used and recycled,

Revolvers, automatics, guns stay silent

Shout out my nigga miles

Like fudd snooping, shooting for ducks.

Got a flock full of dimes

Shooting down moms and wives

Girl the way you're movin', got me in a trance

Kidnapping girls, killing niggas for gangs

With 80 racks in my pocket, nigga i go in all night

Wake up every day shooting for a future so bright.

They say hip-hop's dead, i believe it's just the fans

‘cuz they choose colors of bloods and crips in gangs,

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Im going on a shooting spree

These bars hitting like bullets and your skullys what i'm shooting up

Miami bound with my d.c. chick and we let it fly when we in the club