This is a song about "Make"

Those are not my dreams, i'll be straight

Stored in his mind to make,

All you wanna do is get that stick

Make the crowd go wild and make em panic

I’m letting all my niggas grab a plate

Guess what they got a choice to make

Most bitches, niggas gone me real or fake

Or maybe the right choice you'd make

And every new sacrifice that i make

That's why this my mission statement, bitch get it straight

Outerworlds fall, stop in cells and make

A 45 trey deuce spade sprayed, you stayed

Hey you, what the fuck you think you doing

Ask me to make him talk im make the prick sing

I got six clips to the fuckin' duct tape

Be thankfull for every breath you make