This is a song about "Matching jays"

You can't stop me faggot, our skills aren't even matching,

When i write rhymes i go blind and let the lord do his thing

That i craft these lines to rhyme matching every beat to flow

Competition i ain't winning but admit it, i'm still in it though

Sparking up some weed, i got jays in my beak nigga

And we better than all these mutha fuckas up in this era

To compare me with him is like nike to jays

And hot dayscocking my heat shooting it sideways

She say she fucking with me the long way

Just like this kush grade-a, and matching rolling tray

Or when flying down a panel in some hi-top jays

And you'll probably lose your mind tryna save face

Weed and rapping weed in jays

Never can i straight face

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla

Walking down the street i got jays on my feet nigga