This is a song about "Fireing arms"

Tire marks, tire marks

Tug these sleeves up my arms

Third ward general, young cash money

Your arms enfold me, cloak me

He just has no dime, see arms rocking,

Not concerned with most rappers me i'm a king

Stabbing and gashing at me, thrashing my arms and motherfucken knees

Two middle fingers for the police if a nigga get killed no rat no cheese

You know how jay-z said he wasn't going for the charts

Had to watch to my own brother die in my arms

Hit the green like running backs with no yards

Atomic bombs come like nations at arms

I'll break your bones in both arms

Please correct me, stretch marks