This is a song about "Niggas who suck at soccer"

Niggas come at me with their flows

Live from the lamont's rose

For ma niggas who died through seeking asylum

Make them more insecure when they caught one

Pish posh i suck at rapping pissed off like rick ross,

Trying to move foward, though it never stops

Though, to get back at point you suck at rapping

I was like a young simba couldn’t wait to be the king

Backwoods don’t do papers, that was just for my haters

Calling niggas out, who tape themselves burning papers

Watching for my niggas and my team who inna hood still

Takin' shots of poon juice to the head for a cheap thrill

They gettin chips, they flippin bricks

For real niggas who ain't got no feelings