This is a song about "Parts"

And other parts of your life have just become obsolete.

Before this rapping, i was trappin', getting work cheap

I got nice hands, niggas eat out my big palms

Into literates with their spare parts,

The spark that ignites and tears us apart like two parts

Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards

On my pg shit, i ain't finna keep them

I was the only one she didn't want parts from

Parts unknown my from, steps more silent than oj gloves

So i guess i’m good naira,yoruba love give em my love

But two parts each bein half.

Lights will flash, cars will crash

Of impactful things one can ask for

And i wanted all parts of her

Tryna get a nigga with a all-star name

Im partin seas, and parts of me is insane