This is a song about "Aces and eights"

Yea i'm missin some sleep

And kill yourself and your clique

My aces got mad body cases, preserve spaces at the horse races

The irony in that is that i ain't even that, but you put it those pages

Knees dug deep into the pavement

And remember what i said and

And my tongue stay flicking, over clits and fucking lips and

I want to tie her body up and throw her in my basement

Shout out my nigga miles

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

And get it again and again

I've seen dreams turn dust, cause he made them

I'mma need two mics just to get my point across

Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,

Summertime in the city

Living young and wild and free