This is a song about "Bass box"

You haters put up your guards

(verse 1 starts when bass starts)

Bass drop, low end is a gut punch

So y'all can cope n' touch

Shit this bass-ackwards hit list fills itself still no eye witness

I'm tryna follow money, she tryna fall in love

Runnin' numbers in a circle, proportion box,

A fuck that we will never give is like our pops

And aye ya yai dun had some bad bitches

Bass music was my culture, still is

Megaphones be blaring my bass,

Lights will flash, cars will crash

Corrupting our minds with an idiot box

Trying to move foward, though it never stops

And like a boxer im beat her box,

Your bitch looking messy like she smoking rocks