This is a song about "Make"

I'm make this choppa spit and make it come out her nose

At the same damn time, gettin' hit on by a couple hoes

But when we scrap you gon make

I get my paper, y'all just hate

I surely make it fast and make their ass do the dash

I'm just taking names, then i'm kickin' ass

Two dyke jawns but tonight they straight

Guess what they got a choice to make

I make elevating music, you make elevator music

All you fucking bloggin' faggots yappin' up that extra shit

They say them colors must be fake

Stored in his mind to make,