This is a song about "Fyn being a god damn weeb loser"

And if my mother answer, i'll ask her

And that fear made me into a loser

I'll pick up your bill then shoot you dead and the tangueros will tip their hats

Blasted out a gat with a flow so fast it'll ransack the god damn tampax

Baby mothers quittin school, nigga now it's up to her

But when i go back into that lingering school i'm a loser,

Too afraid of being a loser

You wear a shirt, my records sell yes sir

But my mates said i'm a loser

Said when i do dirt wit her

I thought i was out a-town, but god damn i'm outta space

The marathon of this game always changes in pace

Bow our heads, say our grace, make it out the hood was amazing grace

Bow our heads, say our grace, getting out the hood is a god damn race

God damn golfweezy you at it again,

Who's next to release? we guillotine them