This is a song about "Call your mama"

Fly nigga couldn't tell me nothing different homes

To pour lava on your own mama and snap your thin throats

Call your girl up and meet her/

I know most guys won't freak together

// [you can call out your guards]

Please correct me, stretch marks

Lucky seven probably poppa

Would never hit my mama,

So slim davy please call up your mum

I've seen dreams turn dust, cause he made them

Fumble or you crumble, get murked on the humble

'cause your mama used to beat you with a belt buckle.

Wreck these thangs, have em looking like halle berry's car

And i would have brought your mama but she's greasier than you are

Lips, hips, hair drops down her back, crazy, body frame, crazy

Your papa your mama should tell you not to miss with me