This is a song about "Pat smith the professional hockey player"

My fists are weapons, don't need the smith and wesson,

She never ready to go so she forever come

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

We dont die, starin down the barrel of a smith & wesson

Like a jet pilot, professional soccer player, a cop....

Had so much kush and ciroc, bitch, i think my heart stop

My bars will be coming at you like missiles,i'm the professional, it's official,

Then there's me, alone, sick an sinful, about to show the world my ripple with this pistol

I am on my way to the professional universe

Perfection doesn't exist if it doesn't consume her and the truth hurts

All this flow that i give em, i live by the code and i'll leave her

Every playa's got a hater, but y'all should hate the game not the player.

They napped and slept on me, man, i hate black

You get a thumbs up, pat on the back