This is a song about "Blow dat ass up"

When i finish tappin dat ass, i pass, it around the class and say next please,

No matter how low you go you're not lowlyand i, hear that you made a few enemies

Tired of making money, i'm on to making history

And blow myself up makin everyone a causality

And i end up giving your kids dat bread.

The lights may flicker, your face feels red

My talent should take me places i've never been

Blow up and being in a position

How you gon battle me wit a style dat i made up?

I can hear the bells ringing off the nice dream truck

When they hate, i never give a whole fuck, or half shit

Dat same niggas that grew up , da same nigga you been wit

Blow this shit up harder then landmines

Stuntin' in some other jordan nines