This is a song about "Ashley archer"

Please correct me, stretch marks

That you were in my arms

Leave queers in tears, fear this thin bombardier

Stepped out on her and she love a nigga still

Tug these sleeves up my arms

Finish line with the tire marks

All on the furniture with no regards

Had to watch to my own brother die in my arms

I be calling out game like miles at the farms

Atomic bombs come like nations at arms

Your in my arms right next to me,

Your wrists don't glist, get the pots out baby

You know how jay-z said he wasn't going for the charts

So strong, was her will to make her home in his arms,