This is a song about "Faux pas"

I've got blazing gats, i'll spray your cap, you know that,

You can mix 'em all together you would still be twice as bad

Finished mean done, and done mean dead

You have a hound on a lead,

So take the stage just show me what you got

Are they listening paying attention or not

Of keeping up with the same pace looking boy, 'cause

That's food for thought you muthafuckas can do the dishes

And they all mint condition

I’m not in that position

I say i put it so deep now she a cone head

The last of a breed, that won't ask for the lead

Sixteen years old with a old thang

Fuck that nigga, wolf gang

Muscle convulsions, pumped fulla lead

Probably die getting some head