This is a song about "Marcel y"

Letter to the ghetto, hold your head high

They just jealous cos im so damn f-l-y

His flow is hole-y like the edge of abalone shells

Nigga with too much to say, you might make a fool of yourself

Y you bitches think that im still playing,

Come downstairs with nothing but a shoe string

And you ain't bothered a bit now, baby

'coz how the fuck can you be friends with a craz-y

You by the cooler yea you niggas don't get no tick

Z-y-l-o/ the thoughts in my head are problematic

Y u cryin? "gimme back my back" no bitch its mine, i rap not for your souls

I'm cool with all these broads in here but i do not date lucaya hoes