This is a song about "Press it"

Cause in 16 years, you let your kid down the existence, none

And we don't stress for nothing i just press the button

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

Lord, forgive me, as a kid, i used to look at niggas jealous

So i press against your trachea until you're fucking breathless

24 hours just isn't enough,you just may press your luck

You no good like a stripper with a "a" cup

Kill everybodythey each got a city to pick to make it our part

Live your life, don't fold under press pressure, me who you are it ain't hard

You know its black thought and your boy the bro ?uest, but

24 hours just isn't enough,you just may press your luck

I press him for decimals out the register tellin' him that

You been aching for that cuz what they playing on the station is wack