This is a song about "Phlegm"

Coughing phlegm on the streets as history repeats

Your bitch is a hood bitch you can find up in these streets

How many pistols smoking coming from a broken familyi'm sick of being tired

The pressure when i press up against your chest i'm the, phlegm that stresses, till necks hurt

They would spit it raw, hack it up like they saved up phlegm,

And louder than a microphone that's slightly near a lion's den

Say there mr. mirror, put yourself up to yourself and then

I spit this simple shit sicker like i've got chests of phlegm,

Bars i got them/if they want some real spits i got phlegm /top speed with my

And niggas slippin if they think the fucking grip is a lie

Pathological liars even know i'm the truth

Potent phlegm gold tutted, bodies go loose