This is a song about "Death match"

But i'm sorry for the damage i have done

I strike a match, borderline light the sun

What you getting is death

I can taste the salt from my tears

But years of practice and soon our skills would match

Pull up in the car open the lambo mercy latch

Grow older, closer to death.

Spending her time with him i guess

No match to my flow, dog

Only real niggas stay on top

Nothin you can do to match my skills

A rebel tho, i dont hold my lips

My stomach hurts so i'm lookin' for a purse to snatch

You don't really wanna get into a pissing match

And me and my friends skin color don’t match,

When i'm seen in that, they gon snatch