This is a song about "Corn rows and bad manners"

We forgot our manners, became actors and ignored the hazards/

Perfection doesn't exist if it doesn't consume her and the truth hurts

Excuse me i got better manners,

So you finally got the nerve

Nothin sweet when i attend, see

Of bad bitches and good tree

Here they keep a rachet close

And my ex hoes, she pop ex rows

All these grave stones are kept in clean little rows,

Two big faces on my wrist, boy i got a couple those

When i am mad, and things look bad/

To get them niggas while they laid back

Threw 70 bands, bet 50 stacks, oh fuckin well

And bad bitches give me head and tell

And there's no way i can pay you back

Life still feels unreal and i write bad