This is a song about "Arms"

Please correct me, stretch marks

I'll break your bones in both arms

Come on this journey

Knees week, arms are sturdy

So i'm a take that rubber off, i wouldn't mind having babies

Stabbing and gashing at me, thrashing my arms and motherfucken knees

After all that shit you still call me baby in your arms

I be calling out game like miles at the farms

That you were in my arms

Finish line with the tire marks

Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards

And in those third world countries it's used like soviet arms,

All on the furniture with no regards

Atomic bombs come like nations at arms