This is a song about "I ll kill you wit da gat"

Bitch don´t fuck with me, i´ll murder you that´s for free.

Baby when i like that, i know it's crazy

She's sat on da fucking floor, strippin tears why would you kill/

While we sweating you dripping wet from what your body spill

Maserati’s my birthright car, pass it, i need another hit

Dat same niggas that grew up , da same nigga you been wit

Huh, a metaphor of course

I 'll just stick ta hate songs

This isn't no griot but a mere portion of a semi-important life

Youve satisfied my appetite, you da type, i could wife,

And i ain't frontin for her

You ll still be a prize winner

So you know i be fly, am in da league of kings.

Have you with professional killas, chasing hits