This is a song about "Dripped dropped grabbed trapped stopped stepped hopped wrapped chopped clapped"

And inside they think rap's soft

The feds got- their heads chopped,

Your aura of emotions,is making you chopped in potions

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

Guess not, can't shop, because my income's stopped,

Ballin, folarin so goddamn hard

Tears dripped on my lap, i was battered n' saddened

Homie popped up with about twenty bags and

Intestines wrapped around your neck like a noose

We buying they hoes bags, getting they bitches shoes

Bitch i'm trapped in my zone

They blowing up my phone

Now it’s never ending

They wonder if i stopped caring