This is a song about "1 drop table tags"

She said look ma, no hands and no darling i don't dance

But i keep that to myself, i never tell and rip the tags.

Go to hell, i mean that, burn you like green backs

Falls flat on his back, pulls out his tags

You on the table for operation

Times in this crime land, my thug nation

It was like balancing a house of cards on a crooked table,

Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will

Ain't gotta brain and nothin' to bring to the whole table,

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

Cause see way back, i thought to fuck with you was impossible

I'm just grateful there's a roof and food on the table

Feel like the only rapper that look at you with no trouble

That i'll still be able to break a motherfuckin' table

Fumble or you crumble, get murked on the humble

I'll still be able to break a motha-fuckin' table