This is a song about "Trying to make it in atl"

Cause jesus wouldn't even be my friend on church day

Hopin you can make it out, trying everyday

So i guess you think you grown

Im trying to make myself known

You couldnt make a belemic puke on a piece of fuckin corn and peanut poop

Your "disses" are cute, don't say it with such puppy eyes trying to make a dispute

Now i'm back, but caught in this paper chase trying to make some cash

I was watching, remote pleaseniggas want what they can't have

I ain't trynna be forward

And their bloods trying make it work.

It ain't my place to say and i hear all that

Theyll come over knocking trying to ruin it

And you'll probably lose your mind tryna save face

We all simple human beings trying to make a place.

I'm trying to clear shit up, and make sure my concerts working,

I was like a young simba couldn’t wait to be the king