This is a song about "Paparazzi"

And fights paparazzi for takin a few snaps/

Help me pay my little rent, maybe sit in a benz

So don't be acting shyi run my fingers through your hairthen i lay you on the bed

That’s why the paparazzi made that nigga hit his fucking head that’s what that fool get

Imagine me the subject of paparazzi pictures,

You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse

Leasin' a vehicle quick enough to see people that don't even exist yet

That’s why the paparazzi made that nigga hit his fucking head that’s what that fool get

Where's all the paparazzi? hair on my arm raisin like my pops was a nazi

That's gon' make it hard to smile in the futurebut through whatever you see

And when you fuckin' for the night, you don't need a heart

Paparazzi just caught me shopping at walmart/