This is a song about "Amount"

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.

Tryin have a big amount

I must go like fly route

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

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

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

Tell em we'll never be but they settle for side bitches

Convertible coupe, bitches scream when they tops split

Mother could care less , i never could amount to shit,

They hatin'/ saying i ain't amount to nothing well your right i should simply embrace it

Nigga fuck that gin & juice, i'm fuckin with hennessyjust pour me a glass of that dark shit

Inside of me, but the thoughts it tells me are still evil

Rationing the amount of trust i put into people

It's rainin' now somehow the fugitive's out

But the fucking bank account, any any any amount