This is a song about "I hate the past"

Those histories of misery, i can't try and erase the past,

While i fill you up with semen from the wolf gang team and

Vertebrae snapped, gats...huh, i swerve em right

Now i see the ghosts of my past they're white

Of better days when you ain't have to settle for whatever played

The realism i see inside you is fake / (so you hate)

Gucci & nike, that’s what i call an option

I stopped mourning over past, when i past the stop warning

Your mouth, i don't need, your legs, you can keep

I hate police so im saving the street!

Past fly so high the last time i went blind

Please take care of all my seeds, to my unborn child

Boy got dollars, pounds or whatever

And i hate the chilly weather