This is a song about "Being beaten by my misses"

Like i could make you my misses, this shit is ideal.

While my mom is in the kitchen cookin' up a meal

Hop off the bus

Disses, on your misses

Ain't none of my niggas crip, and we giving niggas the blues

To tell you were being lied to,manipulated by disguised fools

So i guess i’m good naira,yoruba love give em my love

King's being beheaded by the prince with instances of sentences

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for

My lyrics are so clever, i still have you beaten like cake batter,

Being chased by the tears of a stronger man,

Ben baller, six bottles, talk with such expensive slang

Misses street sweeper creepin again the devils my friend

Who baby momma's a rat, and who got killed last weekend

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

Breaking the locks with these rocks from being attacked by a monster