This is a song about "Arms"

I be calling out game like miles at the farms

Atomic bombs come like nations at arms

Tug these sleeves up my arms

You haters put up your guards

Scars up and down my arms

Tire marks, tire marks

Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards

After all that shit you still call me baby in your arms

Hold your arms cry and wallow

What's the deal with the nets though