This is a song about "Make"

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes

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

Stored in his mind to make,

Who’s iller, i’ll wait

You gotta make a speech

First class hoes, we on south beach

Make it a war, ima make it my own,

You gon' miss a good thing, end up bitter alone

I make elevating music, you make elevator music

Every time i walk inside the house, she always tend to start shit

She got the bomb, i'm talking tick tick

Make the crowd go wild and make em panic

There’s money to make

See my hands start to shake