This is a song about "Brown bata shoes"

Could i make you my baby

Crockadillys are the shoes for me

Is written in our souls, africa

Bullshit for lunch, brown bag nigga

I flash smiles at the mean looks

That chris brown and rhianna line wasn't yours

Escobar season begins, so let the semis ring

Brown on a canvas of black, i'm stenciling/

And i snap like bob backlund in the booth

Why you keep falling from your own shoes?

Iron my clothes, pick out some shoes

I ain’t gotta lie, they know i’m the truth