This is a song about "Guns"

Guess they ran out of options

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

We got dat guns and flow

Like curses on the radio

Pocket with a cash full of bashful weapons

Fake people who waste space and shot guns

Don't want to be the king

Guns blazing, hells raising

"kill this nigga, guns and weed"

From the back seat, back seat

With my guns your get antiquated

And get a hall pass for this class-act shit

We bustin' like shot guns

Now, nigga, it’s the prince