This is a song about "Not being able to write a song"

A fuckin' sausage fest will them shaky niggas get married then

Cos now i have websites to write on and not just a pad and pen

I walked up and asked what's wrong

So i decided to write a song

Yeah, look here i pay dues

Able to call a truce

I'm through trial, no more smiles, for a couple years

Or be able to write in any of the cyphers

Write like you got an imprimatur, every song a revolver

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

Obsessive compulsive, peculiar, i'm not able

I'm stuck in triangles, looking for my angel

Power-struggle to come through with a song/

We buy out stores till its all too gone

But killing the competition in that cosabella thong

She'd be moaning all night long while you write a new song