This is a song about "Clips"

Not about the inner city kids filling pistol clips,

Up all night with college hoes, edibles and bong hits

Takin' clips from the magazines like killers, filled up,

Under pressure i don't sweat like my pores shut

Noise like lil girls with curls n clips

A rebel tho, i dont hold my lips

With gats, extra mags and clips

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

Like chris paul with clips of all your bitches getting triple holed.

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

This private property posted so i'm bussin clips

Ya weed quiet, you broke, y’all eaten lean pockets

These hoes thuggin, these nigga's bitches don’t know the difference

By feeding us these images, of bloody death and porno clips,

I stack chips, crack ribs, and in fact, i stack mad mack clips

Soon as para finite will paralyze her existence