This is a song about "Young whores"

So bring all your whores, let me tell them the score

Something in his arm, he pushing more and more

I been laughed at, hated on, no one would even play my songs

Before anything though, they're called bitches, punks and whores/

Young money, d-town's all star

She is far bizarre

Pull up on a stark with enough white to kill a horse

That i don't, impregnate, one of these, young ghetto whores

So i guess that's where i hide my things

Whores, cocaine laws and sirens

And three hours in the showers with the corpse

Expect change when whores sniff caine in dorms

Innocent girls manipulated that i turned into whores,

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers

If i dont bag i’ll be thinking bout your ass

And smash whores, bangin' in the car like shaky bass