This is a song about "Cuban missle crisis"

If we do the unthinkable would it make us look crazy

Drain a trey walk off the court, mark cuban better pay me

Ass shots is a plus

In a rise from my crisis

But i guess that shit's just tough love

From this identity crisis.......

I'll lick off his top, like a cuban cigar

We can count the stars on the hood in your father's car

Only built 4 cuban linx, paid in full, and liquor swords,

Make your bitches' therapist ask for dental records

Adapt to being black, strapped and gang tats, look

Four cuban links on my neck, trap out the hood

And i ain't worried bout a damn thang, with unconditional love

I might just, spread like virus, the lyrics will cause a crisis,