This is a song about "My hittas"

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

I said that imma ball with my motherfucking hittas, most likely imma die with

My words are my rhythm

Shout out chicken getting chicken

The game's a bitch, ooh we got her

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

You're my hero, my idol, my inspiration

Swift-made switch blades made a big incision in him

Both- baby you'll make my, my, my, my dream come true-----------

You reflect me, i love that about you

My words are my ignition for my ammunition,

Got a sweet sixteen and they deadlier than sin

I stuff you in the trunk, drunk

My streaks my testament.

... club, we'll be actin' real nice

See my pain through my eyes,