This is a song about "Stock and exchange"

Maxi pad, leave the beat brown like rihanna lips

The most brokest cold stock broker winter solstice

Don’t i talk nasty, she don’t know my government

Misogyny and homophobia, guns and crimes and,

When i came to the exchange i picked it up i said yup lets do this

And i can't denyi had some bitches in new yorksome puerto rican bitches

Smokin' weed and bamboo, sippin' on private stock

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

Fuck these gomers, our country's run by stock brokers.

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,

I ain't tricking but they see you as a pot of gold

Tell me i ain't god's son, nigga mom a virginwe got evicted had to leave the burbs, back in the ghetto

Fuck a gun wheres my bow? flaming arrow in stock, aiming at your throat ready to let it go