This is a song about "The 1929 great depression wall street america sadness dust bowl poor people no work"

There’s people in the atlanta suburbs who are dirt poor,

All the while my mom askin' why i'm truant at school

Livin' off ya dreams like christina uh-milian in the front seat

No desire to spark beef, light a fire in the dark street

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

Stifle fascination on wall street occupation

Mirror mirror on the wall on the wall,

I'm so-cal, you so-called rappers need to go call

I'm tall, dark, skinny, my ears are big as fuck

I win the bowl, pass the bowl and light up

And the sadness that u deprive

Because i see right through your disguise

But when you need a friend you can depend on me, call

Painting inextinguishable sentences on the wall

But since mark put a nigga on that lily track

And people right down the street from us are still smoking crack,