This is a song about "Ain t got shit"

Ain wrestling it rugged like chippins on the ground

Blue ball, who fault? mine, only cause i stick around

Chop his balls off and use his skin to make a baby coat

Behold, got shit even paramore can't decode/

Ain t happenin!!! you bitches faker then 8 mannequins

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

And on skype bet you say "le where my flight at?", if i decline

Girl no matter what you do you ain gonna cross the line,

I'm leaving you for the last time, baby

E to the t, r-o-i then add another t

Yeah, the sex in the sack

Rat t-t-t-tatted up on my back

And danced around the house in all-over print panties

College degree, scores on my s a t, shit, please,

Got her sayin' you be killin' that shit

Y’all little ass niggas can’t fuck with that