This is a song about "Copy his touch"

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Cause you still can't touch me

Puffin’ on that garlic, cigar full of marley

When i write down lyrics all they do is copy,

Pin drinking sway 2 touch

Go nuts, instrumental flow much

Cant touch me, homie yousa bitch

Trip, and then you never snitch

As an arsonist i freeze originals leaving them breathless without a copy,

Unlike them other niggas, i got itt la-di-da-di, welcome to my house party

Can't talk much cuz he stalk touch

Head for breakfast, fuck for lunch

And i don’t know why you sucker niggas can’t see

I promise, your shoddy rap copy so sloppy

Corporate motherfuckers, yeah, y'all can't even copy this,

And i know you lookin at me like you don't speak english