This is a song about "Amount"

And i don’t gotta front, i play these niggas like a wisdom tooth

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

Account the amount we are paid

J. cole runnin' late

Then it's back to the corner where we sell cracksome of you niggas is bustas, you running round

Lyrics slur from my mouth, fuckas watch closely as it occurs with a limited amount

Higher than the amount of confessions in a confessional

What can you tickle that can make a dinosaur giggle

Tryin have a big amount

We know we always out

Your grind's feeble, i'm regal, really, i'm willy smith

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

Even if the amount of money is so small

Smack 'em out the park, delete their number, that's my last call