This is a song about "Bitches and marajuana"

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

Your wrists don't glist, get the pots out baby

So go ahead bitches and cuss me

That's flyer than a wrestler, you don't want to mess with

Fuck nazis ' hoes and fuck illuminati's bitches

Flyer than the rest of them

Better rape some bitches and then

They for grossing a bigger business

Her own family and those backstabbing bitches

Tryin' do right by you got me here

Bitches see me and think its so surreal

They talk about the clubs and the benz and ratchet bitches,

Fall, bitch, give me everything, i'm taking all this

And bad bitches give me head and tell

It's that crack, give you something to sell