This is a song about "Freddie"

Bitch i got that fucking swag, you don't know my fucking dad

Wall street bankers' wallets get padded, remember freddie mac?

Believe i'll freddie krueger up your dreams.

Because i'm seventeen, compose my own beats

Somebody tell satan that i want my fuckin' swag back

Ya battling freddie the red 'n black sweated lumberjack.

Long as i can feel my heart tap like happy feet

With a freddie cruger glove peeling at your meat

Look dog, don't be asking for dame, see

Triple claws to the mid like you met freddie

Freddie lips crimson and mistaken with the seagulls

But i pray these everlasting groupies don't fuck up this love