This is a song about "Cats and spaeakers"

Remember jack? theirs a reason i only hang with the dogs, not the cats/

So nigga listen you can probably learn a lesson perhaps

I kill on the wary pavement and leave these cats dribbling

So, suicide i perceive, before i slide on that ring

But you gotta be meticulous, to get these critics and cats to bob their heads,

Uh, my mind still lurkin' on rappad figurin' out who to murk next

Snapchats or four flats doesnt bother my cats,

He pumped reeboks, his uncles pumped packs

Real cats come out with aks not whack snippets

Have you with professional killas, chasing hits

Real hip hop, leave the fake cats vanishing//

Dont act surprised, my ex prolly listening

Cause i rather shatter the skittish cats

Switch swag on you little dick fags

I'm paramount, nigga, i am, and you can't be mad

Run with ill cats, and we we kill that, with heat like shaq attack,