This is a song about "Making my own stuff"

Hundred thousand dollars and that’s on champagne

Im my own person in my own lane,

I got six clips to the fuckin' duct tape

Stuff all the steak on my dinner plate

Pullin' up in trucks, carried off in a bus

You just sick of me and my sweet stuff

I'm making my own lane cause most of y'all already blows

Sorta like drano...you know how the game goes

Day and night are my 'posites rare

Strutting my stuff while yo sit there

Wood chain with a jesus

Mouth filled up with my sticky stuff

Cnn, nbc, cbs, creep in my home

Did it all on my own

I put that nigga in his casket

Making my thought process sporadic