This is a song about "Argue"

Those privileged fucks got to learn that we ain't taking no shit

And if you argue with descartes, then you're bound to get hit,

Figurely argue with my mother,

I rush to tend her, talked as i touch her

Hey mr. coach, i don't like you

There is no need to argue

We always argue/i leave then im back in a week or two.

She fly high, high in the sky, ho i can't see you

Apparentally it make you argue morethe more things you throw

I ain't really famous but the ladies need my picture though

Soon to smoke em by the yard till my lungs can't get through

But knowing it's hopeless i still try and argue,

Navigating through her eyes, destination to her thighs

They would sometimes argue, "like mom this cant happen twice!"

So that you will never argue, screech, till you brawl and leave, her to crawl on knees

Two middle fingers for the police if a nigga get killed no rat no cheese