This is a song about "Bats"

‘fore he hit the room, hear a “vroom!” from the porsche bitch

They castrate you bastards, take bats to that which

When i cock the beam back, i'm aiming for supreme hats

Hop over, run backwards, with a knap sack of green supreme bats

Trip out fucking deadly being bit by bats and rats,

They say hip-hop's dead, i believe it's just the fans

You other brothers can’t deny

She looks at me and bats an eye

How me holiday? i love it when mommy say

Corpses try to grab at her, but she bats them all away,

Needed coke, needed dope, yea, i gave her a fix

Bats and hatchets at the ratchet rappers, automatics,

Ironic since my drive increased, my driver see the profit

Cuz no matter what i have you...beaten blackened flattened with bats 'n shit,

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

Dependence to dissect tracks, smack harder than bats