This is a song about "Ballistic missiles"

Whoa yo, yo.. no homo, i'm not gay, faggot

But my words became missiles and then i bombed it/

This for my niggas hustlin until they last minute

Young, naive, who slits his wrists, missiles hit to cock and shoot,

The instant anybody disses eleven fierce rhyme missiles follow

You are now face to face with a thorough pharaoh who be down on death row

My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks

Ballistic acrylics altruistic missiles

Then i might have to redirect where my missiles were aimed...

Of the very same baby that the virgin mary raised

Ballistic acrylics altruistic missiles

And all we lack is communication like service sucks

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

Its raining lyrical missiles