This is a song about "Having sex everyday"

So close i could give flip a play

Tell myself everyday

A coward dies a thousand deaths

I stay awake , dreaming for sex

Young peyton don't huddle, still run my play

And i'm killin' shit like everyday,

Sweet, okay makes sense

I call heads, but i get sex/

Don’t let it drift away like a feather and i’m home, home, home

Having sex till four o'clock in the mourn but u still checking your phone

Why my life depend on what i'mma do today

Im getting stacks of money everyday.

And we havin' rough sex

Leave the keys with that bitch, jets

Just trying to decipher between violence and sex

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense