This is a song about "Dead bars"

Wasnt worth always feeling dead.

She don’t give her nigga head

Ex-convict but still behind them bars

They get mad when i lay up in the porsche box

Give us this day, our daily bread

You all should be fukn dead

And escape the bars, or write your own bars in this prison,

I like it cause she a ten, but she say i'm the one

And i'm still hurtin over pops

I be spittin the bars,

Your raps are so brain dead

Kick back and know yo son set

Sb nike's, with the grey box

But i got so many bars

Who fly? i'm a red eye with eye drops

Dont attack me with your flopping bars,