This is a song about "Tricky whit it"

It gets tricky without tha cash this hour glass not long enough

And i ain't worried bout a damn thang, with unconditional love

She like dudes whit lotto money from

Killa you already know harlem

Ya love it gone admit it

Get the zippo and spark the shit

Cause you can live it, live it, live it,

And my momma keep smoking that shit

Razor grips, laser spit

Yes we bout it bout it/

And the whit i split's got people applauding,

My talent should take me places i've never been

I'm too strong, eight arms sticking to a bomb

So she takes some whit pills and says so long