This is a song about "I creamed my pants"

Attached like pants keepin casual

Rack city, rack city she need a shovel

You wife ain't shit, we g'd her

Your pants get hit with cancer

She do it with no hands

To the same plant, and the same pants

My hands grabbing everything in sight, and my pants sagging,

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

Then i'mma throw this money while you do it with no hands

While i'm tryin' to act like i'm not 'bout to crap my own pants

It ain't my place to say and i hear all that

And i will pull down my pants and proceed to sit

I give you my heart just don’t break the shit to pieces

God damn it i'm cramming a hand cannon in my pants with,