This is a song about "The 30 s"

The outline which you n****s out dated

You, you, you have to pay for that

Wait what if it was the "great"'s ghost on

Tats all on my arm, these hoes say i'm that bomb

Like s b meets the wutang, gotta get that creamery

A single mother with a problem child, daddy free

Liquor stores with the 40's, young niggas bite metal, shit,

It’s a fact that i ain’t givin’ up my stacks like that

And my bitch is the type of bitch that's all about that dough

30 person overdose on one o, the phonies know

Seems like there s a killer on the scene

Miami nights, it was all a dream