This is a song about "All the butts"

And panned out, i'm all in love

The fact that it's all bogus

Theres blood all over the ground

Aim, shoot, the gun of love, round

Ya'll bullshittin', still goin on dates

Vomit all on the drapes

All bout the game, nothin bout the cash

That passed on, they in heaven, found peace at last

Wearing all the finest flair

Let me hear that beat, air

Stack up your funds like a million bucks

Puking all over the rugs

Morphine all up in the system

Flyer than the rest of them

Good kids make bad grown ups

Put em in handcuffs, fucked their butts