This is a song about "Abigail s 17th birthday"

My g"s have been handcuffed,

Spend the night with me, we'll talk and

The outline which you n****s out dated

Until she came trench coat and a thong and shit

Don't murder me murder me, killa a nigga in his sleep

My words play like i'm a father at a birthday meet.

I'm so over cryin, waitin and hopin playin the blame game

Till you scream " what s my what s my name whats name!!!!

Fuck them bitches, ain't trying to get laid

Its as beautiful as a birthday cake

And i'm participatin' in this crazed game of the 2000's,

With my semen and oppressed by my give a fuck less

That’s why the paparazzi made that nigga hit his fucking head that’s what that fool get

Give 'em guns, step back, watch em kill each other"it's time to fight back", that's what huey said

Hard to move on when you always regret one

40's on the 20's with the stove top, i'm steady plannin',