This is a song about "Crate"

I just create my anger with fused weight on my shoulders with no excused crate

So play this shit while you contemplate, contemplate, contemplate

Momma crying cuz her son in a crate box

He probly clockin' double shifts on all of his jobs

Say i’m destined for fame, well i am very afraid

I can seal your fate in a crate and make that shit parana bait

Most niggas love nothin' so i made this tape

Go home a nite to find that my mums brought a crate

You have basically locked yourself in a crate

Wasn’t bustin’ jimmy, i’d be busy gettin’ paid

All the jolly feelings trapped in a crate

Type of nigga to jerk off to his own sex tape

I i used to be that guy sitting on a crate, shotting of an 8th trying to get myself paid,

Its important we communicate, intentions to be forever but never cannot wait

I get my paper, y'all just hate

Can't think straight rant pink crate