This is a song about "Cell parts"

Threw 70 bands, bet 50 stacks, oh fuckin well

To drag his lying ass back to his padded cell

Tactical, my brains cell are individual

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

Kill 'em all, o.f. is what i represent

And she wanted the parts of my friend

I know i'm forcing myself to escape my cell

Niggas say goddamnniggas is funny as hell

Hit the green like running backs with no yards

Into literates with their spare parts,

You know how jay-z said he wasn't going for the charts

Its small enough to swallow and its got sharp parts

She got a fat ass, she prolly know me well

What you thought you was escapin welcome to your cell

Detach you like you need parts

You haters put up your guards