This is a song about "Fucking faggots"

You faggots don’t have the mind capacity

Third ward general, young cash money

Rather be in the studio then out buying drinks

Up parents, faggots and the feminists

Just maxin, relaxing, and rippin faggots hearts

Hit the green like running backs with no yards

Sippy cup full of whip creamed hot chocolate

And we're tired of you fucking faggots, so can it

Faggots in the alleys getting attacked

Not a drink -- two chicks that flip acid fast

Organized crime, i kill your boss

Those faggots won the gay off