This is a song about "Killin yall"

While some are killin' it, literally

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Killin you in all degrees

Lights please, lights please

Yeah i'm killin this beat

If it's me that catch you, you're fried

Yall look like chris kattan, yall prefer male butts

So i can understand police victims

Athlete mentality so fuck my competition

No benson though, cuz the vibe he be killin

Im always killin in the mic,

All my new bitches seem to get old real quick

Killin em softly with words

The birds i knew flip birds

Killin the competition, leaving it dead

I'll be the thunder, shake the whole bed