This is a song about "Sick of the of friendship"

Sick of the spitting on riches and bitches and that shit

Shorty throw it back and a nigga might love that

Sick of nothing to do, but gun buckin the two

There's nothing man made than can make it just you

I'm sick of ya wack crap, talking shit but the fat stacks

When i cock the beam back, i'm aiming for supreme hats

I'm sick of this; i'm not the slickest,

Yeah, i never dreamed of a gift

Papa said he was sick of seeing me in the pits

You ain't gotta screw up your face in front of the kids