This is a song about "Chatting gas"

Because there's no fuel to hold our gas

Why you saving that, with her misbehaving ass

Tryin’ to bag a brother with a super bowl ring

Patting yeah chatting pah acting like casting

I love the way you're standing

And i can't stop chatting

Through tracks, tombs, gas moons encircled

Scrilla fan, oh boy and

Baby when i like that, i know it's crazy

A rapping rookie, acting an chatting pushy,

And i ain't trying to land

I got good gas and the weeds dank

Aw shit, the piggy is getting near

Fill you gas tank with fucking fear

And a nigga so fly i should be droved in jets

But i'm cappin' these snitch chatting, crackheads.