This is a song about "Pistols"

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

Ripples ripple, riffle signals like raised pistols,

Okay he’s gone now, roll her eyes when he whispers in her ear

Y'all say you're holding pistols here, now i see crystal clear,

But that's a shitty accent you should've figured that

Lotta' niggas rap about pistols but they dont kill shit

Waiting on mom to bring me the aspirin from a trampoline jump

All bristle and mane with pistons engaged, and pistols with eight different

Took her to the club bought her three more bottles

It's my time, top it off with two pistols

That mean im overflowin all you rappin niggas in cups

You packing pistols? well bitch i’m packing iraqi missiles,