This is a song about "The clas"

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

I'm chasing money, not the liquor, y'all ain't even close

Run a cartel like a real rick ross

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Hey, who dat, who dat? that nigga you been waiting for

Put the lotion on the skin, in the acid, in the gutter,

If you was, i would climb every other stair, i gotta stare

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

Impeccable give it my note

Here's the answer and the antidote:

Play the game nigga

I bring the heat like the

Slumdog far apart any sub par

Down the street to the car,

The good comes with the bad, the bad with the ugly

I think you need the streets to succeed the industry