This is a song about "The slums"

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

And we better than all these mutha fuckas up in this era

The water from the past is the same water in the present

But every other part of you make me wanna depart and

Huh, i can't interpret her

In the heat of the summer,

Oh how she love the gangstas, they love them green ones

Broken streets, kids dream of me in the slums

Every night i stroke hoes

The more battles the better the flows

Watch this, hey quik let me see them binoculars, nigga

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

Just a little nigga

I bring the heat like the

I’m tryna vibe with ya so won't you throw me your phone number

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