The meaning of the lyrics of the song "By Any Means" by the artist "Wale"

[Verse 1: Meek Mill]

No pork on the fork, but it's white in the pot,

We chargin' you ngas up, you like it or not.

Drop the work off the scale, throw some ice in the pot,

Then let that Arm & Hammer, hammer it right to Allah.

Tryna whip a Rollie or Cartier,

Shout out to this Pyrex, that bought this Audemeer,

Oops, I meant Audemar, my whole team got them.

You lovin' the same bitch, my whole team poppin'.

One hundred dough, I'm wherever that money go,

Glock 9 in my underclothes, you cop two of them, we frontin' four,

Fuck ngas, we don't fuck with those,

Bad bitches, never loved them though

Keep them round but never trust them, no.

This 62 so comfortable,

I'm a field nga, you a house nga,

I'm a real nga and you a mouse nga.

Code red, which means you go red,

But I don't knock you I just blame it on your old head, rats!

[Verse 2: Wale]

Malcolm X, get yo hand out my pocket!

Some ngas walking with death,

Guess, they ran out of options.

Tell them ngas, we movin',

Tell them ngas to do it,

I swear we going H.A.M,

Though some my ngas Sunni,

They burn on every block,

Snitches here don't got no heart.

Shit ain't been the same since Ronald Regan

Helped Plymouth Rock,

And we ain't land on that Mr. Reagan,

But this gon make us rich Mr. Reagan.

Now as-salamu alaykum — wa'alaykums-salam,

She kneel down every Friday and then go to jummah,

Let'em play with her box,

She give the greatest top.

She say these ngas is her pray and she makes salah.

Word, how they say that we not fly?

How they say that we not workin'?

They just need convincing like Malcolm Little

'Fore he converted.

I'm on my grind,

Inshallah, I'm on my deen and Imma get'er right,

On the Bible, you can run

But you can't hide.

[Verse 3: Pill]

Marching for cause, they put a hole in it,

Start the applause, a rebel soul lifted.

Preaching for the paper, paparazzi, federales,

Several rallies mass, Allah's teachings through Shabazz,

That's Malik, Omaha, Nebras.

Corruption over cash, leave them leaking in the cask,

Ain't better? You better rebel, smell cheddar and shells,

Malcolm went platinum in Africa, when he sat in a cell,

My religion the kitchens, papa formulas,

Benjamins to make sure my pockets abnormal,

My philosophy is rocks and weed, a pot to lean, a Glock to squeeze,

Ngas clockin' dollars, don't know how to read with mouths to feed.

It's hard when starving Marcus Garvey mixed with Malcolm Little,

Knowledge was obtained. Fuck your chains and your master, nga.

We in the field building muscle, while you watch the house,

And dusting off the porcelain and open when their cock is out.