This is a song about "Conors mam"

I ain't, mad, at cha

But that doesn't mean to stress ma

Beach on the weekend

Nah rapping is ma zest

And if my mother answer, i'll ask her

Fucking u with ma middle finger

The irony in that is that i ain't even that, but you put it those pages

Carcasses in carpet and drag em off to the market and sell em for charges

I'm not crazy i 'm doing gods deeds

In private, not public in the streets

Bitches ain't around one thou

And ma futures lookin bright now

Wit my kin that i came in wit

I'm open to the market