This is a song about "Kyle wilson"

I'd rather have me no job than no heart

Got ray bans on call me james bond

Gucci rocking his gold rollie, i'm rocking mine

Serving haters shots i'm a bartender no morgan i'm

Giving excuses like shit i thought i was alone or i thought it was my homes

I fucked my whore than stabbed her in the heart, like im an indian from indiana jones,

Gator-toed mauri, three quarters, sky blue

Eh yo ryan, this ones is for you

She said i'm her hideaway i get her off like a holiday

Or like the godfather, you'll be goin' out the james caan way

They see me in that lavender tank, you'd rather just faint

Faces, sex on the white sand beaches of saint thomas, though this ain't

Little romeo going against king arthur...with juliet,

While everybody got ammunition on deck

While you fucking with mei'm a self-made millionaire!thug livin', out of prison

If you're messin' with miss emma you're gonna get deader than thomas edison