This is a song about "The death of a true thug"

Thinks he's a mad thug stacking a stash of crack drugs

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

I'm on the stage, you in the stands

The river of death has brimmed his banks

Now this counselor is trying to tell me that i'm emo, she don't give a fuck

Who was just there for the grub, the subs, the hugs n to be called a thug

Ay when we first met you was too tense for me to get through

Is the rest true, is my death due, to join the rest of you?

Cause you know, aside from me strugglin' or coming up in one of the most

Death//i keep you smoking more than a spoon of meth//the only way you don't

And i'm a hit'cha wit the blow of death

I just play my part make moves like chess

Shawty look half indian and never say a thing

The drugs, claiming you a thug but yall just performing

So fuck it, i'm platinum in the streets

This rap shit til the death of libertines