This is a song about "My palms are sweat"

And a nigga so fly i should be droved in jets

And seeing my parents with their palms placed on their heads

Tell me who's as rad as us and the answer was

I dont sweat the hate, my sickness is ridiculous

I ain't had a woman in years, and my palms are too hairy to hide (whoops!)

Walkin through the streets wearin jewels, breakin niggas makin moves

Mama made her pretty

Blood on my palms, it haunts me

Fuck it, im leaving

The sweet sweat he's breathing,

Got my carry-on but really wish i had a pound with me though

In tongues my heart racing sweat dropping from my heated up skin i would go

As his blood dripped and stained on my palms

Sb nike's, with the grey box

So if it comes down, may the best man win

Drop mics, mad sweat condensation