This is a song about "Bad basketball players"

Bail was a quarter mill, they put me in a box

I grew up in new orleans, ball players and rhyme stars,

Thinkin they true players, but they soft as fuck after the first couple of layers

Yearnin for somethin greater, soul searchin in this dull hole full a haters

I'm entertainin' 'til the players change to complainers

Africa and europe, it's a small world we truly neighbors

This the shit that get cripple bitches to hop

Play basketball you can't even fuckin jump shot

I'm at the top pulling the strings like guitar players,

Know it hurts that she flirts with a nigga this is worse

Always wanted a piece of the pie, now it’s sliced right

The basketball courts, where i had my first fight

Three major players gettin papers by the layers

Now, if you was the last man walking on earth

Two players rockin silk blazers and diamonds like glaciers

Backwoods don’t do papers, that was just for my haters