This is a song about "Diss track to lil pump"

I just ride for my niggas and give the bitches the business

Cigarettes when i'm finished, it's rigorous, to win this meager diss

Dear sweetheart, wassup boo

I dont try to diss you

Shit, that birkin bag make the old dude mad

And some of you may oppose to this track

Cats so watered down clowns can sink titanic

Fist pump chumps, here's to two beers, get too sick

Trigger being pulled, niggers in a ditch

Hows that supposed to be a diss bitch,

I was sitting on the couch reading yellow paper

Now, i'm speaking right to you lil' naughty raper

He's one of those guys that pump their fists to the skies screamin "im a believer!"

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for