This is a song about "Custom"

Why go enclose a dyke gangster, custom manure

You know i spit that sick shit and there’s still no cure

Them niggas lack bars like underground when their celly ring

Afterwards she asks for a custom freestyle flowing

Homey used to be a player, now i coach fools

He was just accostumed to the custom suits/

Iced rims, custom ish, sounding like a fatter whip

Wet willy shit, pussy i need a minute