This is a song about "Face mcshooty ii"

I don't give a fuck either like father, like son, i'm done

It's the part ii repetition, murder with guided precision

My words rupture your face

Thinking of bliss and the good days

On yo ugly ass face

See money talk and these days

Twerk twerk, smirk on the face,

Got me thinkin' 'bout better days

And i just love your flashy ways

Poop's flying on a route to your face,

Leaving your old face remoulded placed onto my new face,

Cause all you got now is too much room space, shoe space

Slow and steady wins this race

Then i bust in her face