This is a song about "Make"

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

At the same damn time, gettin' hit on by a couple hoes

And that was when i was in the eighth grade

And every new sacrifice that i make

Wasn’t bustin’ jimmy, i’d be busy gettin’ paid

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

Be thankfull for every breath you make

Low income no bills getting paid

I make elevating music, you make elevator music

Put it on whatever bitch, me and spitta high as shit

I feel good, i look great

Stored in his mind to make,

Behind the velvet rope, pop bottles, hella smoke

Make a decent quote before i make your reputation float

Yeah this new town cannot make

Two dyke jawns but tonight they straight