This is a song about "Gats weaves"

And your bitch is the type of bitch who really wanna lose

Taking the shots with, the gats from a racist obnoxious youth,

Give me tall glass, coconut ciroc, please, no soda pop

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

Care to tell, i read your mind, she been on them dollars first

Two hundred years ago we should've known the gats would burst,

Then weak up n cry till ur gats out

I try to be the guy, you think about

Top dropped down, black on black

Where the black girls get their weaves back