This is a song about "State quarters"

Im washin off another plate

We tigers with the same mind state

We up in that magic city throwing up them dollars

Told me not to cut corners, use to cut quarters

I got a big fear of flying

My mental state is declining

Can we differentiate the class of the minor state

The audience lovin’ him cuz most of them can relate

If its a different state or different city?

A single mother with a problem child, daddy free

But most niggas love nothin' so i made this tape

Rarely there's a true father in this united state

That's why this my mission statement, bitch get it straight

As i, fall deeper into a manic state

I get my paper, y'all just hate

We move to every state