This is a song about "My mamma"

And your mamma got her bubs out (no),

Ferrari mikes, bitch, i’m on my car show

Grab my knife and my gun

Tryna find the one

Killa! this the ghetto soap opera right here man

I was only eight when mamma had to move to amsterdam

Fucked your mamma, covered my dick with a sock

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

My cash effected, my brain insane,

Can't control the box, you are no mills lane

Riding around with ms. reece and them

Weres my opinion, whats my religion,

And you don't wanna go to clubs no more and

My rhymes propellers, words my instrument

Ya can see my, my, my, my kick-off so shout

I'm fully grown and the future can be planned out