This is a song about "How bad pop songs are"

Well do the hokey-pokey, and turn that ass around

And kids no matter how bad you get knocked down

Your friends are left wondering how

I know i'm runnin' through your head now

You, you, you have to pay for that

You are bad why would you rap?

Your songs are so fuckin lame

I can make it rain

But all this stress still nobody knows how bad the pain gets.

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

You are a bad patient

You know i stick to the script

Mr. happy pop nice songs, i'll drop hip hop pipe bombs

For multiple years, witness peers catch gunshots

You hear that shawty, shh no more talking alright

That's why the songs that you hear are comin' real tight