This is a song about "Cultural contact"

Every visit to neimans, i swear don't even see a tag

Smiling in my face as you said that, making contract with ya contact

I be way out in cali, got hoes of all types

I'm such a wonder, contact the mic, infinite rhymes,

Over the edge, yeah i hide in a potato sack

Prepare for contact, i bomb tracks, sign off like a contract,

Blewin' some reefer in my zone like a 2-3 defense

Chills go down my spine when we make eye contact [x3]

I'm so-cal, you so-called rappers need to go call

No phone calls no visits no contact at all

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

Chills go down my spine when we make eye contact [x3]

We fight with these rings with the intention to ever last

I'm a psychopath with a viscous path to make fatal contact

Aimin' at his partner who know he up next

Chills go down my spine when we make eye contact [x3]