This is a song about "Domes"

Worldwide, but i got fourth ways, one hat carry like four blades

Collect the heads of foes and then im putting all their domes on stakes

Its a home run, your domes done, go home son

Dub a.l.e., still a son of a gun

Throwing rhymes and sewing lines like seamstresses, pop folks in domes,

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes

People in the ghetto are banging, and steady knocking domes,

I'm messing bitches with chuck, but i was wearing some foams

And attacking faster than foes can change the channel, whoa

I'm open minded, you would think my fuckin' domes hollow,

Let's roll a j and pretend we in love

I straight melt domes every time i belt poems

Liquors are out, shit is around the world, because i'll be knockin' domes,

And i got a foot fetish, so i probably have sex with your toes