This is a song about "Flat head"

And i'm not about to let my lyrics become flat

My moschino that fire, bet you never seen that

I dont fuck a bitch with a flat chest

Deliver the bomb shit from the east to west

Miami nights, it was all a dream

Murdered you on the flat screen

My coffee, put it on a flat table mat,

Iphone and ipad, air max, and my gat

Whether i'm a billioanire or flat broke

To soho, baby milo so dope

In that pretty red dress, let's dance

Falls flat on his back, pulls out his tags

Because there ain't no coming back from that

You're a carpet, i'll lay you flat!

Sly's little shop of horrors, now showing

In case i get a flat, my flow keeps going,