This is a song about "Three sons empire just came of jail rich"

But make sure if they do see

At the age of fuckin three

Just cause you change what you pitching, don’t make the difference

No rest for the wicked, or the clean purest of sons

Now it all came back on her, doesn't even look like she's fifty three

Grandma called, see me on the billboards around the city

But most of my homies in jail or slain

I love that hour glass shape you got up on that frame

And you know its just us three

I got bigger problems baby

Hop off my dick and make a fucking sandwich

Underhand shit dread of force you bought rich

Why people want you single every time that you got a spouse

All for dough to close the mouths of the hungry sons whom she bestowed her vows

And certain death for us ghetto bastardswhat can we do when we're arrested, but open fire

Or a fake like you out of the blue i'm throwing a mackaveli like you off the empire