This is a song about "Boats and hoes"

No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose

I could talk about diamonds and all my bitches and hoes,

That they probably be in the closet of old folks

Forever submerged, viewing the paint, beneath boats

Fuck them hoes and the cops

Fuckin' up my gold pots

You got your mean little walk with the model pose

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes,

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

And yeah we up in stadium, quarterbacking hoes

With this rap shit, you know i do the fucking most

You chasing hoes, we replacing hoes, bag and pass them hoes

I'll take control and break the mold, and even though fakest hoes,

I be staying at the roosevelt more than marilyn goes

I bestow blows that freeze foes and sweep hoes.

Sorta like drano...you know how the game goes