This is a song about "Miss ya baby"

Tell my baby daddy that's his baby (that's his baby)

Every third lady that flirt, want my chirp lately

Miss "you" miss cues and misuse one's menu

Nigga there's nothin' left of you

I get mine and i bounce like a bad check

Swerve swerve, fill it up, miss miss, don't forget

Lot of tough talk personas, they ain’t really built for war

So baby don't miss with me cause i'm sick like an ill metaphor

Get my taste from all of my bitches

So bow down to the miss.

Fuck it its mmg, ima cross of def poetry and potent tree

Ya first song was chronic masturbator, mines fuck ya baby,

Heavy weed smoker, get ounces for free

I got to be your baby

Oh ya baby, im the man

Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bang