This is a song about "Postal code"

Half my load, figuring out shit on my own the the dicinchi code,

Your album sound like some shit a fake wiz khalifa papa wrote

You know i’m stickin' to that proper code: strapped up, lock n load

Then i switched the grill on the chevy, got a nose job

If morse code is easier then this verse i will beep

Think it's sweet, think he get money across the street

Or decoding morse code while driving on the free road

And when she not, have her feeling like she on a boat

On the road, soul sold and im mouldy, but know the code

My bitch on the come-up while your bitch is going broke

Inhale my color purple

Hackers die, code is immortal

Learn it by the g code, fire under them street clothes,

With my hand under oath, i recite these quotes