This is a song about "Fucking kids"

To the kids holding liquor bottles.

Rub the wood and ima show em love

Why are the little kids having little kids

Jumped off the porch when i was like six

Good rhythm, bad women and better lyrics

The kris kringle of rap servin little kids

And giving peppermint candy to innocent kids

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

Think i'm fucking kidding 'round, killing kids with the sentences,

Next month i want that plus, money long as your tour bus

So i ended up all alone

Kids here think there all grown.....

Cuz i get kills while you blow kids

She likes the way it hits her lips

But i don’t mean top 40 hits

A lesser measure of beggar kids