This is a song about "Amount"

And i know you lookin at me like you don't speak english

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

Even if the amount of money is so small

The angels sing and i feel like thats my roll call

I hope to live in a big house with a huge amount of space/

Nothing but my dreams matterhoping for better days

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

You wondering why she ain't fucking, we winning, nigga you lose

Ain't heard a nigga thorough, it ain't perfect, but i work

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

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

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

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

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

Higher than the amount of confessions in a confessional

He thinks aw, forget it, its so insignificant and little