This is a song about "Baes and bikes"

Now i'm sharpening spikes, to toss it at dykes and broads with their bikes

Why these broads hear my late call, start rushin' over runnin' lights

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers

Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,

And get caught, in the moment

And remember what i said and

And i need this forever

And don't ever (and don't ever)

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

Or closed casket for our troubles

I used to be poor in the bad part down, stealing bikes to run,

She vying for number one, tryna be number one

But if a nigga catch a nut bet he feel different

Misogyny and homophobia, guns and crimes and,

Tryna be some mobsters

And their mothers and fathers