This is a song about "Jacob bream"

Plottin' don’t even worry

Your being pushed into the dead sea

My bass deafening, rb i should be crediting/

Blowing money fast looking like i'm saving nothing

Please correct me, stretch marks

(verse 1 starts when bass starts)

Throwin round wallets like the dude that kid cudi hit

His urn was silver with his name gold plated,

Givin back the sand til we center rock

Drip drop, the angels made a pit stop

You ever choke? she laugh and say barely

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Your life is a product of trash

I mean turn up the bass