This is a song about "Beat on by my dad"

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

Flowing on this beat like diarrhea from my lips

Never inspired by all the trophies on my shelf

Ain't better, you better rebel, smell cheddar and shells

I get special attention

My dad ain't have no hair on his chin

I stay on the beat. like my converse walking the streets

Too much percussion and bass when i take beats

By the age of twenty two i'll be a loser or a dad

Pouring liquor for my niggas that was killed, send em back

With cash that i couldn't spend, countless carsan addict for a wife, my life, as a ghetto star

Osculating bitches hormones, keepin it exciting while on my telephone with my dad carl,