This is a song about "Crab shells"

And when i die through sprayin shells, i'd hope hip hop dies and sent straight to hell/

And she ain't gay, but the only thing she like is fucking chanel

Have my pistol ready shells and some extras

The day has come, dipset remains the ones

Vocals release shells like automatics

I be giving work to the kids

His flow is hole-y like the edge of abalone shells

Thats my surroundings in compton, have common sense

So i'm one with that

They said man just quit this crab

Where niggas throwin' em' shells, i'm tryin' hard to prevail

Millionaire frames, that's money on my mind, wale