This is a song about "Deathrow records"

My records sell, yes sir

Fuck them, fly together

Now i'm putting out these records so that hood shit is explained,

They see me in that lavender tank, you'd rather just faint

Didn't even care whether it's summer or blistering cold , platinum records were getting sold

Truth be told, i'm only seventeen years old, my heart is bold, i keep tryin to stay gold,

Bring back record sales, i sail while i break records

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

Cause our run will never be over, not at least until we say

And torture me by forcing me to listen to records claiming they

Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king

We had ya pussies flinching before the records started sending.

From ten to nine, you do your business right, let me attend to mine

I rap just to pass time mat ta fact i used to sell records for a dime,

Coming, shady records muthafucka we gone bitch

Hop off my dick and make a fucking sandwich