This is a song about "Imma killa i ll shoot you in your face with my 9 bitch"

I am number won i'll bake you with my own son so die even your bitch won't cry

Just thanking the holy fatherhe made a star and shita youngin still ain't die

He thinks aw, forget it, its so insignificant and little

You better run before i shoot you like a missile with my rap pistol,

Insult me? i'm blasting with an air force onslaught in your face

My music is like confetti rain when you win a race

I remember tripping, walking through the set like my glock don’t think

I fly away, bitch i said star gate! you see my face, and get resist,

I will shoot you in the head

Kick back and know yo son set

Cause maybe the devil son, shoot you with my semi-gun, your done.

Its soo-woo season and shawty dick teasin' now for that reason

I'm feeling like the realest little nigga in this business

Anger on your sly shit face spray that shit with mace throw you in your case this