This is a song about "Niggas on courts"

Sicker than these niggas on they grind, workin' nine to five,

Look, the illest bitch alive, reallest bitch alive

Fuck whoever said the rap game wasn't edible man

I make it rain on niggas call me a weatherman

Triple six for the niggas that's hopping on dicks

Or the crack that they sell to put food in their kids

Fake niggas i plan on seeing less of

I've got muslims calling on jesus

Proud of it all defensive fuck i'm rocking alone

You all expendable niggas on your sylvester stallone

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free

Beaming on this track i swear these niggas aint ready

I make it rain on niggas call me a weatherman

Ben baller, six bottles, talk with such expensive slang

You niggas be ballin, but can't ball on me, like a g

Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free