This is a song about "Walking roots"

Real artists blow up and they forget their roots,

I go to war, old timbs, battered boots

Why hear a commentary about the truth and its evil roots?

Ain't had shit to loose, pullin' my pistol on them fools

I come from humble beginnings, some cred and gracious roots,

This the district where politicians is fucking goons

Strange fruit grew from wicked roots, you'd fiend for money trees

If you see us in the club, we'll be actin' real nice

My primary concerns are to focus on my modest roots,

But little did they know, i’m trying to change the rules

And you ain't gettin' it, 'til you start payin' jewels

Refuse to even try and just go back to our roots,

Whole ride hazy tell her don't drive crazy

Black thoughts never explore their roots, up under me,

Your bitch kind of ugly but she sure fill up them jeans

Seeds and roots and leaves of money trees, cream by any means,