This is a song about "Keyboard sweaty autism hotpocket fedora spaghetti"

Lock my heart up, this is jail, throw away the key

You ain't ready, i can tell cuz your hands sweaty/

When i wear a fedora,

My all gold rolly or the

But i need your faith in me, i'm a sucka for love

Her epidermis urgently sweaty like she was nervous

My palms sweaty, the mic's slippin thru cemeteries

Like the nigga on the block waving his glock but won't squeeze

I'm al capone in a fedora, execution on the church altar

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

To put that into context autism usually gets you less than thirty,

The money gets closer when you seem to be grindin' more

Surrounded by the thirst driven sweaty messes blocking the door