This is a song about "Bob and jen"

And kill yourself and your clique

I’m way harder than the concrete

That's making your head bob even if the music was muted,

Give it to these broads,imake em soar back and all that

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers

Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,

Or closed casket for our troubles

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

I saved her number just in case but now it’s case closed

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,

I grew up with killas man, people who killed, man

Yes siree 'bob', i was thinking the same thang

What them tippers don't see

Sponge bob bitch,"im ready"

And i'm dizzy and spinning

P-i double l in the building