This is a song about "Trapping partying selling drugs and fighting"

Probly from selling or doing drugs

I like hoes that like poles in clean clubs

When i write rhymes i go blind and let the lord do his thing

Gave myself a new birth and another shot at fighting,

And get me some more drugs

Good kids make bad grown ups

Think they tight, with their fancy clothes and fighting words

Ravishing, rick rude of rappin you bastards

Drivin' my impala and selling drugs

In a malcolm x shirt chillin' with the ku klux

Shawty look half indian and never say a thing

I think im addicted to the fighting and tripping.

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

And he was married to my grandmother for money n drugs

The mainstream is selling out, giving their bodies and souls,

That they probably be in the closet of old folks