This is a song about "Jarred s birthday"

And you are you too, but bitch i'm three

Your birthday and anniversary

An eighth of grape ape hella joints to the head got my eyes all varsity red

That’s why the paparazzi made that nigga hit his fucking head that’s what that fool get

Chain, and not two, unlike that fat guy without a brain but a birthday crew.

But i was plotting on you, i really wish that i'd have got to know you

Trying to get back to this thing called love

Now you buying birthday presents

She got cold feet, my love will be the sun, get it done

40's on the 20's with the stove top, i'm steady plannin',

Young money, d-town's all star

Bad, just like an 80's car

Left hand staggerin' on her muthafuckin' breast

S on my chest like a superman vest