This is a song about "Amount"

I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots

Were funny enough to get a bogus amount of props.

But the fucking bank account, any any any amount

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

I'm tellen you one day these suckers gotta fall

Even if the amount of money is so small

The amount of temptation surrounds me in isolation

And if you see a whack artist do more than boo him

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

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

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

Now mama see that shit on oprah and know that it’s coming

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

And when you know you a catch it’s hard to pass up these bitches