This is a song about "I sag my pants until my ass shows"

Still you couldn't know my psyche, liar, pants on fire,

I'm on my grind feeble, my music is either

I never judge a murder by weapons, only the rage

I sit on the stage, no rows at my shows, i live in a cage,

Now i rock shows, kill beats with my eyes closed

I keep a broad beside me while i skate coast

The flow cold as a shoulder of a gold diggin hoes

I got flows, for rap shows, buddha smoke through my nose,

Need it in my hands, and i need it in my pants

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

But if i had just kept my head up my ass

Rolling while im blowing this stash

Now i rock shows, kill beats with my eyes closed

And i drop top off in a hot cold

Eat the shit i funnel from my ass

Stack in his hand trynna make that last