This is a song about "The jomer"

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Now tomorrow you sober wishing you ordered a soda

We all the same the blacks the whites the something in between

Got a pocket full of cream, my moccasin's clean

You made me wanna

I bring the heat like the

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts

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

Your a shell of a mani lost respect for you nigga

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

The more battles the better the flows

Big money, i’m talking bad hoes

From the gutter to the roof

Zero options to choose