This is a song about "Bomb"

If i bomb on saturday

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

My mom, it was the bomb,

When you took my hand up so calm

Each bomb digging in straight into the surface

I've got a paper plane, it's propelling my buzz

I'm not playing, i might as well be making a bomb

Cause in my criminal mind, nobody violates the don

Plant the bomb like petunia

My all gold rolly or the

I just black out and explode like a bomb

She go say i bad like saddam

Hold up call it prime time, hold up i'm a mob bomb.

So sad you had to miss your mom' s prom

Told her that her pastor was a faggot and he likes john

And meanwhile the agency are throwing over the bomb,