This is a song about "Chilling with the crew"

Raised by a momma who, who

When i'm through, with your crew/

Chilling out in the shade

Pitchfork doesn't need a plate

Chilling with his homies high instead of caring for his kid,

Got a body full of bullet holes laying here naked

I'm on point baby, ready to stick you

Fuck with with me i'll get my whole crew,

Oh, a taco joke, domo smoke, i heard

Chilling with this asshole, he call himself sweatshirt

And now i'm at the crib all alone damn i miss you

Cruising in the cique rollin' deep with the crew,

Tinted out, you ain't seeing through

Thats the lifestyle me and my crew