This is a song about "We working"

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

I remember shotguns and modest working class homes,

So either i'm a sociopath or society just isn't working,

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

I just play my part make moves like chess

Miss hard working, shit spurt mess.

And all we lack is communication like service sucks

It's not working after all. i think we had enough.

I was fiending for the meals; i ain't talking burger king

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

Playing with fire is a danger zone

Dad working so hard, mind overblown

Working the drywall partying it up

She was the queen of the club

Not working. shot, choking, broken.

Herpes virus, yeah bitch, i fought one