This is a song about "Box"

A fuck that we will never give is like our pops

Runnin' numbers in a circle, proportion box,

Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?

I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots

Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box

Took a shot, tired of runnin from the niggas and the cops

Now my watch fruity colors like trix in a box

So i'mma push it to the end and take quarters on shots

I like bitches in air maxes without socks

So i can rip out your voice box,

And like a boxer im beat her box,

And i'm still hurtin over pops

Fuck the pot i forgot - to sock it in a box

Got police chasen meto my niggas from old blocks