This is a song about "Dear future husband"

I ain't superstitious i make all these broads split my pole

Black on black murder,uh dear god, r.i.p to every soul

I determine your future.

Girl, what you grabbing cash for

Jt: didn't get a gift for her

Destiny or future

Than your fuckin husband

Trying hard to speak and

Poke out from behind her

No prospects for the future

Living underground like a godfather buried alive

A simple solution tell your husband tell your wife

My knees on the ground, dear father

Regardless to all them, i appease her

Its elementary my dear watson...such treachery

Okay lamborghini mercy, yo chick, she so thirsty