This is a song about "The streets of gangsters"

I kept runnin through the streets

Sleeping in a cell, it's been 30 weeks

Don’t let me talk about the deal ones

Broken streets, kids dream of me in the slums

Maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some fucking skinny jeans

Man i carry on tradition and the essence of streets,

If you see a bad bitch in the passenger seat

Against a new king of the streets on a fire hot streak

I'm taking women to heaven and then i take em home

I was so young, raised in the streets of fort smith, homegrown

Never let the game play youand for the fame

More fights occurring here then the streets of cold ukraine

Damn, you rap shit, crying gangsters, the type of ass that

Gods words all cursed like crackshai-tan's way of gettin us back

Gangsters walkin' 'round in suits, i bring out the thug in them,

Begin to make me feel like a little kid again