This is a song about "Stuff and things"

Dripping cold blood like the winter, the summer

Caught myself puttin' rap first and other stuff under

Pullin' up in trucks, carried off in a bus

And in my ghetto weed was a typical stuff

Let's roll a j and pretend we in love

Ugh, trying to write lyrics is all hard and stuff

Girls, traffic and some things tragic

I never crack i got that chap stick

Just direct insults and wordplay-stuff thats highlighted

All my friends, weed & cigarettes so i take a hit

I feel my work ain't enough

You just sick of me and my sweet stuff

Spit that raw shit, y'all some talkative condoms, fall back

But some artists get caught up in beefs and stuff thats wack

If only i could rap to you

And all the stuff that you went through