This is a song about "Old bitchs"

I ain't tricking but they see you as a pot of gold

I've murdered so many verses its getting old

Lifes he stole left young but feeling old

Can’t tell your girl so she the center fold

Paparazzi in the trees, please curtains closed

Still moving forward like a 2 year old

And don't think what you're old

All this paper i fold

It's my new old shit against your old new shit

A good head on her shoulders, i need to feel that

So i could find my rainbow, my pot of gold

This irritation of life that's getting real old

Sixteen years old with a old thang

Not a fake person, that's the sims man

These wack bitches getting old

Where i from, it get cold