This is a song about "Amount"

Can't forget the amount of words, flipping heck it's just absurd

I'mma about to mess up all of itjust dont say another word

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

And i can't denyi had some bitches in new yorksome puerto rican bitches

I'm just trying to paint that picture, when i'm rhyming up in this booth

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

But the fucking bank account, any any any amount

I'll push this fucking pregnant clown into a hydrant stuck in the ground

Better hope you can handle the amount of beef in ten cattle

Keep it real as penitentiary steelthis ain't no freestyle battle

Rust from the amount that pile up, never to touch and filled with blood.

Backing up, like juvenile biggest fan was a moving truck

Now me, tony, g, and tre got the keys to the nation

The amount of temptation surrounds me in isolation

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