This is a song about "How old am i"

With a staggerin' pack of cocaine in the sack of my dick

I look at myself, how the hell am i supposed to have any dig-

A parakeet resembles just how high i am

And i come through your window just like i'm hustle man

I tell them killers they ain't figure what they fightin' for

I am going to have to learn how to keep my temper

Now we going hard like i ain't gonna die

But i aint got to be like "ay how sick am i?"

But his deferred, and blurred and changed in shapeit's fate, it wasn't my choice to make

How to top those words he spake, how am i gonna reach my idol, miller, jake?

Here i am sitting, wondering how you are, how your doing

Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king

Get the zippo and spark the shit

But how long am i supposed to keep it?