This is a song about "Being cold at basketball"

And a fist full of money give it to a fifth grade

Another human being laying cold on the slaughter plate

These girls all aboard, this young money trainhaving since fame shit'll never be the same

Cold to the bone, holdin' my claim / as being dope with the flows n' closest to fame

Play basketball you can't even fuckin jump shot

Can’t tell you where i’m going, just know i won't stop

At the thought of being popular

And let's change the way we treat each other

You should lock me up for being so dope with a flow so cold

She keep her eyes open and her fucking mouth closed

Cuz it seems you get ass for free by simply being at the scene

If i don’t make it, then somebody tell my son screen

The coupe i’m in is rented, i ain’t wit’ all that commitment shit

And i hate myself for being angry at someone so tormented,

I can't correlate the weight of being served on a cold plate,

Petey pop off, rip, free lou, been lootin’ money since like fourth grade