This is a song about "Conors mam"

Lucky seven probably poppa

Leave your running to your mamma,

With hi-tek on the score, once more, of course

Were trying to put an end to these cold wars

Texting my mama current self

I can taste the salt from my tears

Dream, catchin this flow like hakeem, catches a football, its time to crawl,

Drops there jaw in aw!like a stock marketer watching the stock market fall

Would never hit my mama,

That's gettin' oldplus with tha drama

Or you still wear power ranger p.j's an mummy helps you to get dressed,

Somebody call the pastor, this bastard is so possessed

Toil and blunder of a young single mother

Too late now we're friends, i surely prefer

And your mamma got her bubs out (no),

Ok, polo with no horse though, d.c. well of course though