This is a song about "Custom"

You kidding meit's really nothing to me and my king

Afterwards she asks for a custom freestyle flowing

Iced rims, custom ish, sounding like a fatter whip

But if i did it would be bigger than earl's upper lip

Ain't had shit to loose, pullin' my pistol on them fools

He was just accostumed to the custom suits/

Nigga had the fucking nerve to call me immature

Why go enclose a dyke gangster, custom manure