This is a song about "Club cant handle me"

Got a pocket full of cream, my moccasin's clean

Started flying off the handle, call me mr sheen

Ain’t no doubt that shit is crazy

You cant reach me, you cant teach me,

My father's dead, well i don't know, we'll never fucking meet

Bringing a crew would be good but, yall cant handle my fleet

Taking off into space, gravity cannot handle me

They hating, patrolling and trying to catch me riding dirty

I hear "i can't handle this shit, i need a handle to help me handle this shit"

Come close, catch a contact, i got a loud pack in my cargo pocket

To handle me and all i've given you

I guarantee our change whatever we go through

Rapping as i'm mocking deaf rock stars

You cant even handle 2 bars

And i know u cant handle this heavy lyrical load

It's ironic they call me a fresh breath no joke