This is a song about "Piper the paws"

We the motherfucking best, word to my mama

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

I'm on the block as usual

Im the one waring the mussel,

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

Bail hard but balling 50 on them pretty shoes

That's me spitting this fucking garbage toss

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Got all the black bitches mad cause my main bitch vanilla

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Pick one, peter piper. and pick a peck of pickled peppers.

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

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

Sorta like drano...you know how the game goes