This is a song about "My arms"

Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards

Atomic bombs come like nations at arms

I’m a hustla, baby

Your arms enfold me, cloak me

Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds

Planned to give a tooth, but not my arms and legs

Tire marks, tire marks

Tug these sleeves up my arms

See, it's something about commitment though

Put my arms around you n never let go,

T.i. literally wanted to shoot up the charts

Atomic bombs come like nations at arms

Hit the green like running backs with no yards

With blood running fast down my arms

Stabbing and gashing at me, thrashing my arms and motherfucken knees

She like me from that no hands but i'mma need her to use no teeth