This is a song about "Bats"

I’m gonna pop some tags, only got twenty dollars in my pocket

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

Trigger being pulled, niggers in a ditch

They castrate you bastards, take bats to that which

Maxi pad, leave the beat brown like rihanna lips

Bats and hatchets at the ratchet rappers, automatics,

I plan on getting back *censored* the worst way

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

Till we're dumb high, dumb high

She looks at me and bats an eye

87, brick fare, yeah, i’m talking thirty racks

Dependence to dissect tracks, smack harder than bats

But fuck that, i live in the hood and we need y'all cats

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

It’s a party in my pants and you invited with all that dance

Trip out fucking deadly being bit by bats and rats,