This is a song about "Control"

My bitch bad, looking like a bag of money

Almost lose control, lost sanity

Just another system of control

I dont see a touchdown, arms up field goal

I love the way you walk

And control this shit yourself dog.

I’m waking up the whole game, maintaining control,

See i know when the harsh reality take it's toll

Im unrealistically realistic, this beat, i control

I ain't superstitious i make all these broads split my pole

But really he was always in full control,

Chevy filled up on petrol, times like this i just roll

These are a few things i can't control,

18 year sentence with no parole

Screw the labels, my crews get creative control,

Meetin' fuckin' hoes on the road, it's takin its toll