This is a song about "Flying bitches"

And getting money is the song i sing

Bullets flying, fake homies lying

I'm here, flying through bars like flappy bird/

Your body's saying things i ain't never heard

Pop-pop, hit a mini mug

I couldnt give a flying fuck

Like wu-tang, look how i do the thing

Bullets flying, fake homies lying

Okay, so play d, know what i mean

I'm flying on top yeah my rhyming supreme

Innumerable bone crosses and flying saucers

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

I'm the other guy

But i am flying high

Breaking so many laws, waking up in the dark

I'm flying big, my rhymes are going out of the park