This is a song about "Thugs and money"

I got money mind and money on my wrist

I pray that that's me, but i gotta be honest

Miami bound with my d.c. chick and we let it fly when we in the club

Money come and money go still money problems addin up

In a malcolm x shirt chillin' with the ku klux

Daddy left and momma started hangin' with thugs.

My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks

Lotta rapper thugs talking bout bitches, money trees, and drugs

Rappin' real, and because i got thugs, i'm packing steel,

I swear these bitches look up to me like i'm doing here

Swag-er. this is a mixtape about... nothing. not on drugs

Poor black people seen as on welfare and lazy thugs,

Misled by mtv and bet, turning to thugs,

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

Hustle for money and making livings

Weight stand out like pimples and cold-sore lips