This is a song about "The front end"

Auction coke to the coppers, glocks in the locker and

I come from the slum, bitch i ain't gonna front

Then push the milk on a slow bend

(victim screaming in the end)

Took something rough and turn it to a diamond

I'll bring the party all the way from the back to the front

I'm asleep in the front seat

If he does my soul to keep

But the one in front of the gun lives forever

And the moon looking beautiful as ever

While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for

I sit in the front seat to avoid getting laughed at more

Might as well get it off yo’ chest

It's just me, in the end

Everyone else freaks out, and starts running out the front

But she's not alonemiss independent