This is a song about "Make"

Money stacked to the ceiling just as quick as it dispense

Barely make cash, they wonder, it doesn't #make #the #sense,

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

And erase my number out the phones of these fake hoes

I'm trying to get you hot and wet you know jacuzzi that shit

I make elevating music, you make elevator music

Till i'm well-paid, bail's paid

Stored in his mind to make,

She self made, i'm self made

Outerworlds fall, stop in cells and make

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

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

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

And that's a better reason to for me to take advantage with sex