This is a song about "Gun on my waist"

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

Witches tongue, trigger happy finger on the bristling gun

Grab my knife and my gun

And you can tell everyone

Don't worry bitch i won't kill you fast with my trusty gun

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

And this machine gun pointed at my face,

Ever since grandma died, everyone parted ways

You were the safety on my gun, you pulled me through it

And, uh, i don’t know what keeps me alive, shit

Ross and folarin, couple women

I really wish i had my gun

I felt my body get heavy, from my neck to my waist.

Of the very same baby that the virgin mary raised

No silence on the gun, its no sound with it

This is known as a classic, yeah that chapped lips crack shit