This is a song about "Little kids getting killed"

So both of our imaginations are creations of the fucking situation

If they got kids looks like they'll be getting looked after by there next of kin

There's no answer for it, these rhetorical lyrics

Bitch i'll sift your shit and swiftly switch, i'm torturing little kids,

Find your number in my phone and don't know what be goin wrong

Little kids and crack hustlers shooting 'em with nines drawn,

Cause i’m getting more kids, then michael’s bed/

Cop me air ones, hon, lime and red

Kids growing up to be little pricks

Got stretch marks like she got four kids

Or getting a little rep to my name

Never let the game play youand for the fame

Why are the little kids having little kids

She'll do anything for me, nothing but hits

I diss little kids who can't fit in cuz i'm a bully

Paralyzed to the feeling, all the hate i see