This is a song about "Mat and his shit bars"

So i throw a couple more bars till his fucking knees drop

Then all i really want is for her to get on top

Earl boykins i 'm hearing voices i try and listen

And escape the bars, or write your own bars in this prison,

I don't understand how this game made us strangers, look

Hellaway can suck my dick, his bars are no good

Trying hard to speak and

Bars coming nice and fast

But when he's sober bet his bars still burn like sniffing cinnamon

The mirror's screaming at me saying i'm emmi lola's son

So much fuckin' white make darth vader have a dimmer force

The shit i saw would make king bawl and shit his drawers

Slap the shit out of the abuser and let him know his a punk ass looser

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

Don't second guess it girl there ain't nothing to think about

Crossin' his fingers, now that shit lingers, and no doubt,