This is a song about "Glass tables"

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

I will fucking beat your ass, box logos through the glass

How the fuck you wipe your ass

Shut your face before this vase is glass

Tryna see if real lyric spittin can buy me a porsche

Would make you swallow more balls than tables at pool halls

Be financially stable or busting tables for paper and caught the chasers.

Fuck lil wayne, and coach carter, im a baller, who goes harder than the heat and faggy lakers,

With shards of ice and glass

Why probe our ass

The tables have turned, now i'm the favorite

Yeah, inglewoodinglewood always up to no good

At it with glass- what matters?

And what about the rappers

Yeah, i got philippe chow flow

Tap the glass lightly then crescendo