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

See youse a nasty girl, wit yo fine ass

Some die while gripping the gats they have

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

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

The odd niggas are beginning to spill these pink hoes

My words are like weapons, gats or poison arrows,

Watching my vehicle break down on another man's block

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

Until the buzz go away lets have a little fun

When we meet you with gats, better find your asylum