This is a song about "Label my shirt"

After i dig her up and then eat her out with a bit of mustard

I fix the hem of my shirt, i guess now we're curt since you love to subvert,

Everyday is a new story, pick up my rosary, and turn my shirt around like rotary,

I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see

Feel like the only rapper that look at you with no trouble

Keep those tables unstable/label common unable/

Got a button down shirt, pop a collar

And then along came the wrong man for her

Stop the crying there mascara on her shirt

And when my eyes looking like a nigga tired

Give me billboards, whatever that people will kill for

But some label me as a satirical liar/

On my shirt now i gotta do work to remove dirt

I got that cold flow, winnipeg, this is work

Let's keep it g, nobody see you when you being humble

Put the haters on a table, i dont need a fucking label/