This is a song about "My g s"

Scratch my back all of that it get s me crazed

Ima lay it down and have myself a taste

The irony in that is that i ain't even that, but you put it those pages

Your career are over like mary j bilge in rock of a-g-e-s

And coulda retired at 29 in my 20′s still

So i spend it real fast, cause i’m tryna sit and chill

I reel them in, goadomes on see

With a fronted silent g.

On hip hop and grime my g,

What them tippers don't see

Than diggin' in your couch, looking for your car keys

But meanwhile my 16's screaming like "peeps please"

The ice ain't really nothing to her

Put those fake nigger s to do my labor