This is a song about "Guns armour"

Stir up all these feelings inside of her

Head to toe in thick skin shit its like armour,

Backwoods don’t do papers, that was just for my haters

Until his words pierced my armour and to make things worse

Fake people who waste space and shot guns

Guess they ran out of options

3m's on my new balance

Without the sound of guns

Packing guns, n' tackling bums.

Stack up your funds like a million bucks

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

You can't evade my guns,

Not caring for lives, only profit and guns

But this ain't physics or rocket science