This is a song about "Street credit"

I ain't gotta tell you they know about me, huh

You gotta have cash if you credit the visa,

From the back seat, back seat

Now we all in the street

Desire get confused and you could lose your direction

His name is eminem, i would have to credit him

Claiming i rap like i'm street,

Have no souls indeed

Then bossip for gossip, ybf in concrete

Helpin’ little old ladies across the street

Death is the credit to terrorists / severing heads of degenerates

Always biting his teeth, his outer lip was shrouded with countless slits

I pray the lord my guns to keep

Yea we hard on the street

G.o.n.z. running down the street

Me and my peeps often meet