This is a song about "My chipsa"

I wonder so often

Grab my knife and my gun

My glocks steady,my walls up, my teams ready

And now me, you can call me mr. friendly

To have my name engraved is my crave till my grave x2

Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds

Got my head in my hands.

Cause if i shoot blanks, oops, thanks

And bijies like im out and

My streaks my testament.

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

{*both*} but first lemme, lemme, lemme talk to her

I'll take you out shorty but let me know its mine

This is just my year, just my day, and just my time

See my pain through my eyes,

I need a backyard full court size