This is a song about "I ain t got no type"

Shoutout yo baby momma, that bitch is sorta fine

Girl no matter what you do you ain gonna cross the line,

Always knew where the pot was

Fuck the cops, i got no morals

Higher power where these verses from

I wouldn´t diss my own mum,

Pad on the heel that's a passion of mine

I ain't got time for no cloud nine

Like banana peels for heels, my spill is so legit

I got the whole damn world on this shoe type of shit

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

My type has no replacement lurin bitches to my basement.

Do you think i'm crazy, crazy, crazy

E to the t, r-o-i then add another t

No receipt nigga i got that

They napped and slept on me, man, i hate black