This is a song about "Pop threes"

Nigga, i'm a bastard, i fuck with chord keys

I promise you pain, i will chop your body in threes

Chips, chocolate, pop, popcorn and music

Another love song about shit

I'mma make your heads bop until your veins pop

Ha-ha, laughing all the way to the top

It's not hip-hop, it's pop

Ain't no lockouts, the game don't stop

In case i don't get intell all my people i'm a ridahnobody cries when we die

The ball in my fingers. i be shooting threes outside all day with my hittas and i

Pork on the fork, white in the pot

Makin em drop/, making em pop,/

And if we don't we'll have a race of babies

Come see me in my court, scoring them threes.

Standing flat footed, i’m on my toes

And my ex hoes, she pop ex rows