This is a song about "Makin babies"

Abortion clinics, babies dead in the womb//

Seen blood, sweat and tears like a locker room

Guess i’m different than most

Makin hella pesos

And staying on your smell, uh, licing, twenty year old tween pimple poppin babies

Two middle fingers for the police if a nigga get killed no rat no cheese

I hope not because i cant be dealing with little babies,

This song about you, then you probably need to leave

And i need you to show me love

Suspicious babies in britches

Chillin' with homies and family

Makin me scream profanity

Cause there could never be peace

Because i'll eat yo babies