This is a song about "Guns bangbang"

I was born to do the damn thing

Guns blazing, hells raising

And finally, everyone got their own problems

Tranquilizer guns fertilizing these soiled ones

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

Without the sound of guns

Pocket with a cash full of bashful weapons

I pack more soul than chicago packs guns,

"kill this nigga, guns and weed"

Sometimes i think, what i need

You can't evade my guns,

Guess they ran out of options