This is a song about "Mischief"

After party crib full of broads all naked

For all the mischief you did but kid

I'm a lost soul, twisted lyricist with mischief in store

Fuck it! i go until my 40 millionth encore

With a staggerin' pack of cocaine in the sack of my dick

Fuck im so auspicious, tynna make mischief, come up on the mic

The shit that i spit is more

Mischief youth spent bored trying to score

Tickets to mimic my shimmick have hit the mischief limits,

My side is all riders and your side dont buy tickets

Frigging regular mischief, yep this shit's gonna last

Box logo hoodies and goodies from buddies that understand