This is a song about "Twenty two"

It is super sized, number twenty six

Have you with professional killas, chasing hits

Cause i’m going out with a fist raised

At twenty eight i'll have plenty of taste

Lady at the frank stand will

Twenty inch nail rifle

I got my mind sold by the devil, bought in dollars got it for twenty

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

Miss couldn't get them jimmy choos cause tuition is due

Just clouded spittin through rappers two by two

I'm a g, and this is something you can't see

How is this the twenty first century

But hold the beat, he ain't speaking for everyone

You probably sleep with twenty guys a season/

So i threw it in a rap so i'd remember that

By the age of twenty two i'll be a loser or a dad