This is a song about "Being songld"

Who dat, who dat? bitch i got that flame

While you were sittin being lame,

It's ill-advised giving hours to another broad

Your being dismembered its clouded thought

Long as she come to me first

My future now being burned

Plans consist of being successful

You all niggas ain't even on my level

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit

To being a being and beating the back roads and being it

When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them

It's like being in a breadbox, but only being a crumb

Come downstairs with nothing but a shoe string

Took the form of a human being

Fuck a quarter, i wish you well being

And this will be the song that we sing