This is a song about "Don t fuck wit me"

Your wrists don't glist, get the pots out baby

Bitch don´t fuck with me, i´ll murder you that´s for free.

You don;t thin anymore

I ain't happy with the score

She on media take out, but don't take out her kids

They have bitten the filth when they've wit#ness-#t his wits

You're the don, go up to carlcee and tell him shit, see if he doesn't fuck

But she only fuck with boss niggas - lames, you outta luck

But ain't gonna be no stress in here

Depressed for years they still don`t know what i feel

Boys don seen me. fly so high i need stop it hell is my

Getting high, see the demons in my eyes, before i die

See 'n agree me on b. b. c or m. t. v.

Two kids, wide hips, found something in her we didn't see