This is a song about "Flannel shirts"

We are being wiped off the face of this earth

They smoke black and wear black hats, with red shirts,

They don't have the guts to spit the rhymes,tearing my shirts has got their lines,

Cuz id be lyin and yall be fine chase bread with my dog muthafucka felines

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

Basically these basic bitches crop shirts til they're not covering

C-squared wearin some hawaiian shirts, every one got there butt hurts,

And ain't it shameful, how niggas blame hoes for givin' birth

Course not, i'm big like horse nut

We dont got our shirts scrunched