This is a song about "Count on you"

Blue ball, who fault? mine, only cause i stick around

Your telling me how to write boy i'm glad you can count,

Blankets around me, two if you count my skin

My talent should take me places i've never been

The girl give me da head count

Everytime you come around

Blade in her hand and a note on the side as she count to ten,

And louder than a microphone that's slightly near a lion's den

You have to make it count, remove all doubt

She make me chili like t-boz, me leave her out

And verbally swears the count in making

So she graduated, rich nigga wife training

What are you doing, learning to count syllables?

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups