This is a song about "Steve the hollywood bro"

Because i'm seventeen, compose my own beats

My heart sank when my bro was shot in the streets,

They leave...u-turn...customers, we serve em right

Or those who spit the truest rhymes, bro, that's what you decide

You are now face to face with a thorough pharaoh who be down on death row

All i see is green, cash signs i mean. weed to though cant forgot about the kush bro.

Shit that makes the homies say, 'yo bro, you can really spit!"

And every nigga suddenly be rappin bout that trap shit

Now the only guidance that i had is splattered on cement

Laylow bro you said you would battle but you never sent the request

My last challenger said "sorry youre right bro" told all the hos its a typo!

Creep with methrough that immortal flowthug passion got you tremblinglike death on the row

So here i am at the store for some chips

For a property in hollywood hills

Fuck hollywood fuck fame and fortune

9 months later, new car, can’t afford a son