This is a song about "Make"

That involve ballpark franks and silver duct tape

Outerworlds fall, stop in cells and make

Make the mother fucker melt

I practiced till that shit made perfect

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

I got six clips to the fuckin' duct tape

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

Heneesee, makes me think my enemy is getting close

She glammed up behind that eyeliner i know there's tears

That could make some sense, to make amends, to take a stand, to make it tense

I make elevating music, you make elevator music

Sixty-two, without no tint; missing roof on my new shit

Yeah this new town cannot make

Redbox flow and i do not date