This is a song about "Thrift stores"

I moved here, work at grocery stores, there are factories,

We still visualize places, that we can roll in peace

And movin' you moanin', music on the counter in the kitchen

Black people get followed it stores, mindless locked in prison,

Pass me that bong, inhale, astronaut flow, space jam

When my first lp drops the stores will be overran

Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that

I got a closet full of them thrift store tank tops, and you ain't even know it,

Convenience stores being shot up just for a bag of chips

Until then, my feet planted on the ground, shadowboxing my conscience

My records selling out the stores now

Will somebody please show me how

And when you fuckin' for the night, you don't need a heart

And pawn shops and thrift stores and food lion, nail it hard,