This is a song about "Press"

But i pray these everlasting groupies don't fuck up this love

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

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

So when i rape a bitch i hold her down and get my best nut

I type a da cheats then i quickly press delete

Baby father bullshittin', you two don't even speak

When it come to pistols, these niggas don't john lynch them

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

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

I’m a bad boy, bitch, ask puff, sip ciroc its my last cup

Shit, that birkin bag make the old dude mad

Address the press by startin a attack

They'll probably think i'm middle class 'cuz i don't press the metal,

I'm takin' notes, havana flow, i'm feelin' special