This is a song about "People bad at call of duty"

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

Alot of people call me young k for a reason.

Had a bad day at school, so she's in a bad mood

And i'm the type of muhfucka that'll share you, shoot

Jt: i'mma be the syrup, she can be my waffle

Ima bad bitch on his hip man he call me his model

The .45 for you niggas with nine lives

Reminding me of the bad times

You're playin call of duty four while i hurl on you

We use cakes to get by, by the dudes in blue

And the headrest had to have about eight thorns

People wonder at the numbers of hordes

Bad bitches in my office, call it bad business.

Next month i want that plus, money long as your tour bus

I need to be the center piece of my entire culture

Call this shit osama's track, people hatin' lucifer,