This is a song about "500 followers"

Got followers and i'm not even a leader!

I never use a fork i always spoon her

They say them colors must be fake

500 miles push on the disc brake

For leaders and followers to uparm their vision

The mirror's screaming at me saying i'm emmi lola's son

Methods going to the edges, it's all in me like infections (infections)

Demonic followers sitting in a circle of candles in every sessions

Kiss a dick and lick it little slick rick followers, swallow,

Competition i ain't winning but admit it, i'm still in it though

Higher than a vanilla sky, float by you

But i got 500 friends mom i really do

Rotten bodies piled up, goners or followers men

When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them