This is a song about "Fisk lips"

I.e. i get sick, white tee, i be kicks

The right-to-kiss his dead wife's lips

They were the perfect couple, they'd always lock lips

I don't care who exist, the exorcist moving bricks

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

So i could shine like other kinds with my lips

Somalia women ethiopian queens never could tell the difference

My bars are a fluent fit / a confusing mix exiting my spewing lips

Just like a cannon from the teen in nick

Rubbing off these cracked lips like chap stick

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

Darker than a fucka lips

But i need your faith in me, i'm a sucka for love

Freddie lips crimson and mistaken with the seagulls

Gotcha lips baby while i pull your hair

And got her room number, you can find me there