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

I ain't tricking but they see you as a pot of gold

I've been so tired, all my songs are so blatant and cold,

Then we cut, look how she say my name

Why do you call me names that are lame

Our songs makes heads pop, an nans ganster bop, limp walking round like they just got shot,

Hahaha, yothese felonies be like prophecies beggin me to stop

Hit me with those lame ass rhymes that are off topic

Shame on themyour legs too little and your t-shirt big

Nigga don't know how to rap but i'm in the game

That beautiful girls and parties are lame

She keep her eyes open and her fucking mouth closed

I've been so tired, all my songs are so blatant and cold,

We self-made but never is an i on the team

Niggas, y'all think my songs that i write are squeaky clean,

Haters are lame, and they sloppy as seconds

I've got a paper plane, it's propelling my buzz