This is a song about "Gats"

Everybody coming home deserve a white benz

Blazing gats at flaming fags like british dudes with cigarettes,

Packin lyrical gats n' it's a fact i'm passin to the top

Vroom vroom, keep the motor running girl, you know it don't stop

They said show me ya gats, ya cash, ass ya smashed

I understand, i'm back by popular demand

Shit's a traffic jam, and we bomb pakistan with gats in hand,

But now it's back to the lab 45 messages right after you land

Then weak up n cry till ur gats out

I try to be the guy, you think about

I'm wolf, tyler put this fucking knife in my hand

The gats got its own mind, with a psycho attached