This is a song about "Feelins"

Olajuwon, james hardeny’all niggas new to the sceneand that’s my nigga, supper club

Ill minded disguise of feelins put into words but what u spit mke me want to hural but

I'm hurtin ur feelins and burnin ur ass ur fragile like glass

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

Why you ignorin these feelins between us, must be that "l" word

Walked out the church, then got a call that my homie was murdered