This is a song about "Median having to do with math"

Sixteen bars to kill a rapper? bitch, you do the math.

My bitches is perfect, i tell 'em boxing for your ass

Cause i'm out on motherfuckin bail

This verse leaves you having to read braille

My father was missing, war lord oliver north

You was on a bed having intercourse with four whores,

To my gunfulfillin' my destiny

Without having to worry about a hubby

That makes threemy laywers getting cash up the ass

Who wouldn't miss me? do the math, gas from ass, dash through glass,

They rap they're ass off and don't nobody like their songs

Getting people i was cool with addicted to having sores,

Man, this nigga ugly and he raps, ooh

I want nothing more to do with you