This is a song about "Gats"

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

I know it's hard but who does god choose to go through it worst

You always was a black queen, mamai finally understand

Man it's stupid how we're fascinated with the gats in hand,

It got to be a lot of shit in your ass

Some die while gripping the gats they have

Fans catch us on animal planet, tracking hoes

My words are like weapons, gats or poison arrows,

Always on the road again, with omega or the band

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