This is a song about "Make me yours"

Jacking off to buffering vids of asher roth eating apple sauce

My lines are so original they make yours look like a shitty spinoff

Everytime you make me fall,

Mirror mirror on the wall

But you make me open up

On they car note to go to the club

I fry niggas come at me than you might get yours

Tell the homies i'm in heaven and they ain't got hoods

Epic, they used to feed me detours

My raps is better then yours

I never crack i got that chap stick

That they make me fucking sick

Fast itll be me that yours facin, so get pacin, im racin, im like an elite athlete

Hands on the pump, makem jump when its cocked backfuckem all they're bitches inside a world of weak

Still doesn’t make sense to me

It was just another party