This is a song about "Grandpa pants"

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

While i'm tryin' to act like i'm not 'bout to crap my own pants

Cause in 16 years, you let your kid down the existence, none

Grandpa or grandma, not my auntie or my favorite cousin

Pants shitting, scared, barely even shifting, i'm as sick as fourty children

You let it slide, i hit home-runs, clean her dugout till i’m done

I need a little room

I'm a tiny pants goon

Two for the pads, and two to take down your momma's pants

This bitch is badi dream of pockets full of bands

Grandpa. i remember grandpa. we turned his life support off like a camera.

Troublesome niggahahaha, troublesome 19-motherfuckin'-96let it be known nigga

Still you couldn't know my psyche, liar, pants on fire,

Don't always fuck me good, i'm just too cheap to divorce her