This is a song about "Guns death killing people girls"

In a cycle of death i'm killing gyros

Like the limbs on ya feet, i suppose

See, my bitch got that attitude to fuck a nigga right

Quietly killing people in the night a secret in plain sight

Where the guns ain't an issue, and death is big

You're goin' to hear this and begin to ride on my dick

Now, nigga, it’s the prince

Without the sound of guns

Fake people who waste space and shot guns

And god blessed me with a lot of patience

Killing till they're real rap people at the top instead manic flops

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars