This is a song about "My cribs"

And the moon looking beautiful as ever

My leisure, my pleasure, my light, my love, my measure

Leave the keys with that bitch, jets

My wondrous success bombs my regrets

The way we eatin her we gonna need bibs with a side of cribs,

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

But now i own yachts bigger than a lot of mans cribs

Have you with professional killas, chasing hits

Sorry mr. charlie won't chap dance

My shit thigh like my bootstraps

I’m in the club, tryna show ‘em how to stunt

My rhymes propellers, words my instrument

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

D.c. pg is with me see that bentley that ain't mine

Look dog, don't be asking for dame, see

My own unknown is my enemy,