This is a song about "My dead father"

Birkin' baby, go merk 'em baby

My father never talks to me

I'll tell you true stories, how i coldly hold heat

My words play like i'm a father at a birthday meet.

I was a spitting image of my african father/ parents from the

But that's a lie, so give this thug a tryi'd rather be ya nigga

When i'm blown i can work proper

My knees on the ground, dear father

My father is the cause of these memories

I was underground but wasn't trying to renew the lease

My father say we can only help ourselves

Cum again, invite 'em if you have any fun friends

You niggas comedy, i'm laughing at you probably

Sitting at home thinking "man where could my father be?"

Jt: didn't get a gift for her

But look at my mother and father