This is a song about "Amount"

They frontin', they charles s. dutton movin' garbage

All you want is a good amount of dough, and to shoot a bitch/

Cuz if i hit it now these feelings take a different route

But the fucking bank account, any any any amount

Frown and a gun lit is all she could amount to confront with

Tryna make a difference where i'm from, where you live

Tryin have a big amount

Fuck what y’all talkin’ about

But really i'm just caught in the loop, of understanding the truth

That you need to set a curfew to the amount of bullshit beefs you fuse.

But i told them every single day that i'd amount to something

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

Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will

Higher than the amount of confessions in a confessional