This is a song about "No weapons"

You waking the dead, don't test me hoe my weapons is real

Runnin this bitch, feel like i deserve a medal here

And align the mic with my torturous weapons

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

They say my music knocks, so i hope it open every door

Or classic misdirection it's a collection of weapons of war

With these raps we mend, recommend you get your best of men, to pen their weapons

Cry, die, tie, then sigh from relief from bottling up too much grief ever since

Don't need no smith & wesson, got my fists for weapons

Cuz she came back with the kid and yoi been payin ever since

It's moe, all i need is more chips

Words are weapons (weapons)

Words are weapons (weapons)

I was playing with guns

Torture plans with weapons you could call medieval

You all niggas ain't even on my level