This is a song about "Little"

Weird niggas make sick too i don't need no pistol

Everytime i think of you, even a little

But you're loving mine i am the shit

Tipping acid, little ratchet

With a home girl, best friend, lover, all that

Even a little hocus pocus magic

Go play with your sex toy

Little gay-lookin boy

Into little minces

Gold bottles, lot of bitches

I wanted a brother my mother i told her

Little scrapes, little dents - i got over

Or maybe too little

Baby i am professional

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

Now im looking a little kids thinking what about the little kids