This is a song about "Make"

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

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

I don't mind if you niggas hate

I'm afraid of the destruction i'll make,

Be thankfull for every breath you make

Early adapters agree they all late

We would like to call this an appreciation tape

And every new sacrifice that i make

Of course they all hate

Yeah this new town cannot make

Two dyke jawns but tonight they straight

But when we scrap you gon make

Guess i'm self made

There’s money to make