AR-AB - Mud freestyle [tekst, tłumaczenie i interpretacja piosenki]

I've got a story that I'd like to tell
About young goon who spent half his life in jail
He got shot, he lost his mom, his life was hell
He got rich off a pot, butter knife and scale
This promethazine is giving me a toothache
The coke jumping out the pot, I need 2 plates
It's a drought, I charge 12 for 2 eight
She gotta go if she don't fuck after 2 dates
They caught me at the light, like BIG and Pac
Now I can't leave a crib, without 60 shots
You wanna try it before you buy it - lets hit the spot
But this a whole brick, you gonna need a bigger pot
I had 5 drug cases but I spanked 4
Now watch me run through this brick like Frank Gore
I call my plug up, and tell him bring 4
Then I kidnap his kids and tell him bring more
I was taught to look rich, but think poor
And never trust a bitch, that ain't yours
I learned, you don't need a scale when you sell them whole
When the cops ask you questions you tell them no
It's the facts of life, drought time tax the price
I have niggas land on your crib like a satellite
They say Ab - you too violent, you ain't rappin' right
But I can re-rock a brick, and I can wrap it right
To get money, it's a lot of shit you sacrifice
This popcorn will bring a dead block back to life
And I ain't going back to jail, I put a hit on him
I tell K shoot him in his face, then spit on him
This pro meth got me stuck in first gear
I came home from jail, I was broke my first year
My mom gave me applications - work where?
Man, I walked outside and put work there
I had a dream I had a red phantom
But in real life, trying to duck fed cameras
I know some broke niggas that kill for a bread sandwich
Rape your girl then beat her with a sledgehammer
I'm in the strip club, a 100 bottles, bought them out
Last time I made it rain, the bitch bought a house
You get a work back, threw him if he short an ounce
So when you cook up, you never dupe the water out
I hope Allah shine light on my mom grave
I wish I knew a way, I can take my mam place
Remember when I left coke, on my mom plate
And then she kick me out, that was not eight (?)
I've got a lot of broke dreams, that I can't fix
I know a lot of coke fiends, so I became rich
We sell the same drug, but we ain't got the same flip
We got the same gun, but we ain't got a same clip
I'll pine a lean, and you sippin' on the same zip
She ate the gun, then kiss you with the same lips
I'm down Mexico, talkin' bout distribution
I took a hundred gram loss, and I just be cupin'
They shot me ten times, they must be stupid
I hope their kids catch aids, and die from lupus
I'm the type to shoot my gun if I hear noise
This baked soda got my pockets on steroids
I've done some fucked up shit, I got no regrets
What they sayin' in their raps, they ain't show me yet
Heard they say I just rap, they don't know me yet
I'm gonna make them pay homage, cause they owe me that!