This is a song about "Knob heads"

We've just never discussed what's on in our heads

And a nigga so fly i should be droved in jets

A lil' closer let me see you in the spot light

Bucket heads and goonies in common sight

Along with my other trophy heads

A coward dies a thousand deaths

This is the part where we run hip hop

Bank on that shit dawg i'm stroking my knob.

I'm on deck i'm up next

I call heads, but i get sex/

Blurting text with versing jests perplexing suburban heads

Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds

Hand on knob, gotta do the job

You know i am not gon stop

Blewin' some reefer in my zone like a 2-3 defense

Nigga be handin out crawfish trays to lumber heads