This is a song about "Style and being der"

With what was once original style becoming more and more commonplace.

Bow our heads, say our grace, make it out the hood was amazing grace

And if i wasn't high, i'd probably try to blow my brains out

That collectively murks ur style and the circle u stay around//

And my minds being matched

600 benz, condo six hundred grand

With an old style and a sold can that outran

And they respect that, say that i'm real man

Parallel on the other side

Im being pulled left and right

You got mad style and now my hands tied

Indulging a meal when a toilet's in sight

Or popeyes, we don't keep no birds in the circle

And i'm being motherfucking abnormal.

Never wrong at any level

Of being rich and powerful