This is a song about "Target on my back"

Lord lord forgive us, personality clash

Call it boomerang, it comes right back on my ass

Adolf hitler if he was alive he would be my first target

My lawyer came to court, man he was higher than the comet

Good help is hard to find

Cause i’m back on my grind

And mansions on the fault line of a shaky market

Once you've messed up you can't go back, made a target,

Shit, that birkin bag make the old dude mad

Same game, same blood, same coat on my back

But you niggas too weak, but just give me 2 weeks and i'm good

World on my shoulders as i run back to this my childhood

Harder to quit, the cigarettes and green bags

But i will keep on pushing till my, back bone cracks

Niggas awful at dressing, they just a'ight at music

They had my back like support on the chair i kick.