This is a song about "Thirty eight"

I chose to make mistakes at the age of eight

When i saw that 28 to put me in and out of state

When i put ten in the bank and they take eight?

My money like a senior, watch it graduate

I’m letting all my niggas grab a plate

Knocked down seven times, and i get up eight

Stockyard bards, a hundred thirty two years charred

Fed ain't dumb but they sittin' in the cold dark

Then some lady named billie holiday

My path's in eight lanes, eight chains, great word play

Now it’s your turn, spitting till your thirty?

Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free

At twenty eight i'll have plenty of taste

Niggas shiver and diemultiple rounds found laced

"here's my address, meet you at my place at eight"

I let her decorate the real estate