This is a song about "My mon"

Got my head in my hands.

He in bootcamp, you on food stamps

My shit thigh like my bootstraps

Couldn’t adapt to naps, i wear caps

Like mitt, rom-ney, with his fuck-ing dumb, mon-ey.

Barbed wire got a barricade on your destiny

My words are my ignition for my ammunition,

So get your glass lift it up in the toast position

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

Niggas who be rapping how real they are

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

I'll take you out shorty but let me know its mine

I dont love you im just confused

My nitty bag, my kitty boost

Riding around with ms. reece and them

Weres my opinion, whats my religion,