This is a song about "904 bass heads"

Smackin heads on the pavement,

I’m coming back like light-skin and

Raz, fuck jazz, this is rap, increase the bass/

Goddamn your ex-man is a dumb ass

(verse 1 starts when bass starts)

Tire marks, tire marks

I’m just multiplying my money and dividing the legs

Of letting heads progress to zen we're shredding beds and wrecking heads

Head for breakfast, fuck for lunch

Bass drop, low end is a gut punch

Blurting text with versing jests perplexing suburban heads

You can call me cancer but i don't smoke cigarettes

Wish you niggas father understood where the condom was

Shit this bass-ackwards hit list fills itself still no eye witness

And place words on the bass displaces, decapitates at the bases,

See you later, cause baby i'm a player, and all i heard was