This is a song about "Urban terms"

If ya interested then we got terms to discuss

Shitto me that shit sound delicious

The projects to the urban hood, where bitches pop rocks,

They get mad when i lay up in the porsche box

In rap terms he keeps it real

But it's clouds over here

And reminds us that the mixture of guns and puns is too urban and street

But if you're not dying don't fucking bother to call me back, i'm sleep

Yo we ain't from the ghetto but we go urban at least,

Ain't no nigga touching my style, it got a force field

Metaphorically speaking i'm alerting you of theoretical terms,

Sometimes we overlook the fact that we be ridin' hard on our sisters

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks

With terms of release, bitches, money and yachts

Urban inner-city ghettoes, where you've never got a minute,

Swear a niggas draws be on some stupid neiman marcus shit