This is a song about "Hatin"

Then some lady named billie holiday

So fuck all you blog hatin' faggots, type away,

Stop hatin i know you a fan

Fire in the hand, supplier of the man

She swallowing killa cause she love the taste

Hatin from the side cause i'm fuckin and y'all ain't

You scrape through a daze of decayed days, hatin' just facin' it

You see they way out they minds with no return ticket

Got the fridgedest temperature on my wrist again

If you hatin on me, you obviously a lame

While i’m somewhere in the back, getting blowed like a blunt

I ain't hatin', just sayin', it's time you met your replacement

Get my fill on with this grandmother named jill

You just hatin cuz my flow so ill