This is a song about "Ghost squad quick scope"

I've lost this game and it's haunting me like a ghost

Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed

The squad on lock no key

Ain’t no doubt that shit is crazy

Bout to get tackled quick

To impress a chick

And when she not, have her feeling like she on a boat

Pussy nigga want it he aint even know he was on scope

The funeral for hip-hop, i'm aiming down the sniper scope,

Your album sound like some shit a fake wiz khalifa papa wrote

Scarin rappers like i was mixed with a wicked ghost

You're like the sun and winter, my pot of gold

My squad, holler the loudest, y'all niggers childish

Hate me if you want to but always remember this

With this rap shit, you know i do the fucking most

Kill this faggot dahm then shoot at his ghost