This is a song about "Ion got no type"

But i ain't got no weed, no phillies, or no papers

Thinking about who the fuck your nigga gone serve

But i don't got the steak for y'all dishes

Dont got time for no bitches,

I'm too busy doin the type of shit that got gotti killed

But it was written in cursive for this king to exist

What them tippers don't see

But ion show no love g

Nigga had the fucking nerve to call me immature

To these doubters he's a type of cancer with no cure

I'm gettin help for this addiction, now golf ain't important

I got the type of bump that make a bitch wanna hump

I got the whole damn world on this shoe type of shit

So i threw it in a rap so i'd remember that