This is a song about "I wana fuck the rappers making this song"

Fuck it i got a few more now that my hair long

Didn't want you to mistake me that's y i wrote this song

Over the edge, yeah i hide in a potato sack

I "wrote" this "song" [about my transition to the cloud, back

Make your bitches' therapist ask for dental records

On this mic i turn satan, rappers fightin to break the horns

But without any of y'all i couldn’t have written this song.

Niggas talk a lot of shit, but that's after i'm gone

And im making this song just so i can remind you

Now jordan iii my shoe, double m g my crew

Think we can fit ten in, bowls packed with everything

Making whack rappers react with the sneezing

Fuck the loving, up 'n' coming rappers are the cure for this virus plague

And my wrist froze, but i’m cool sha’, like a bald head, i’m too paid

You aint shady spiritually literally or lyrically, your a shit stain not metaphorically now leave,

I am not a person i represent an idea that you can be whoever the fuck you wana be civil liberties