This is a song about "My pants"

Lady at the frank stand will

Attached like pants keepin casual

Still you couldn't know my psyche, liar, pants on fire,

It's like we both forgot what we were fightin' for

Fifty grand in my pants like ivy smith

A fun chick its nothin to break funds with

In this cracked crack fag back slab in disguise

My pockets fat, still looking for some pants my size

This bitch is badi dream of pockets full of bands

Need it in my hands, and i need it in my pants

My hands grabbing everything in sight, and my pants sagging,

Them niggas lack bars like underground when their celly ring

Know it good when she go no hands

I literally almost shit my pants/