This is a song about "Get the guns"

They down to do it all, i call 'em us open

Load up the guns where i'm from, the south son,

Wait, don't they sell the terrorist's guns?

Silicone bitches got the confidence

I caught a felony loving the way the guns blow

This is more about nothing, i'm the fucking show

Meaning fuses tears when guns become the soldiers,

See me, i’d rather cut let ya body give birth

Guess they ran out of options

Without the sound of guns

Im tired of hearing guns clap in the trap,

They say, trojans never break but it ain't that

Guns in the waistband, blunts in the pocket

And dip her teeth in gold molds and flossed the shit