This is a song about "Amount"

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

Cut the commercial, he be texting all the side bitches

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

Convertible coupe, bitches scream when they tops split

And i can't even trip, cause i'm just laughin at cha

Trying to be the richest i can amount ya

Were funny enough to get a bogus amount of props.

Took a shot, tired of runnin from the niggas and the cops

And to be honest i don’t know what niggas talkin bout

But the fucking bank account, any any any amount

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

My music is like confetti rain when you win a race

A 45 trey deuce spade sprayed, you stayed

Account the amount we are paid

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

Your toes and your thighs shakingi eat it upshe said i'm ready to fuck