This is a song about "Clothes hangers"

They talk about the foreign cars, bitches, and the finest clothes,

In my room, redefinin' the meanin' of black holes

I take tokes while you little niggas take notes

We don't do laundry we just buy more clothes,

But even when you leave, somehow it still try to follow

Ho, ho, goes, père noël in his little mufuckin fat ass clothes clothes, so so

Odd future wolf gang, wolf gang presents

Same clothes for days, same spot for months

Standing flat footed, i’m on my toes

Dreaming about the cars, clothes, bitches, and hoes,

That's why you'll find her on the floor

Cuz no one wears clothes like tht anymore

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

You rain-bows, so you just skittles in plain clothes

She's shivering in the cold, 'cause she's outside with no clothes

That they probably be in the closet of old folks