This is a song about "Mass relays"

Or understand the dust blocks in there gainin' mass

A wise nigga told me don’t chase that cash

Tryin' do right by you got me here

I got that mass appeal

Somalia women ethiopian queens never could tell the difference

Your selfish and less relatable, not exiting mass of interference

I'm gettin money til my pockets need a tummy tuck

I've been putting on mass like all these niggers here to worship.

I never use a fork i always spoon her

They engulfing mass sour and mad powder.

Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king

Knocked a blue belt pastor at mass tried to get me to sing

My talent should take me places i've never been

The type of shit that causes mass confusion

The type of shit that causes mass confusion

And last but not least please don't tell no one