This is a song about "Inches we need are every where"

Fuck a tape, fuck your broad

Where are you gonna go, dog

Tell me where my soldiers at? put yo' pistols in the air

We feel that connection we are different from every pair

We move to every state

Pitchfork doesn't need a plate

Yesterday i saw a b-girl crying; i walked up and asked what's wrong

"how the fuck we supposed to screw, you're only two inches long"

Saying that we need some changes

Thought this was forever love

Every punch need line, for every dollar sign,

By the minute i was getting paid like a hot line

I'm acting brand new, let me check my schedule

You going around every where acting cool

Riding around with ms. reece and them

We stay faded, need no occasion