This is a song about "Not sleeping with my gir"

With my head in the stars, and just not in the game

Givin' 'em a wet, welcome to the house of pain

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

Imprinting all my thinking on your linens while you're sleeping

If you talk shit, i'll make you cry and tell your big moms

My bens stops with a beep make some friends but not with the cops

I don't really know what the fuck's in my cup

Hating my dad with passion for not showing up

Not taking nothing with me, just my pen and pad

Money in a bag, stones be yellow as a cat

Snorin' in the bed with blankets cause my head spin

I'm not sleeping at night, save it for the morning

If his bitch insist on getting sick

But im not, just sat here fiddling with my dick

Luda moved digits after he moved bitches

But not cool cause my house comes with