This is a song about "Pro wrestling"

Ur reign ends and mines pro-claimed,

Cause i’m going out with a fist raised

Hollow tip dum-dums eat flesh like piranhas though

Getting dro on low like a fucking pro

And smoke all day to make them pro stoners so proud

There must be another route, way out

Attitude that was not really felling

No don't do wrestling go won't to heckling

Imma fucking pro, nigga, i stay composed

Doing time in the pen and your gram's old

Definition of cold: ice, 30 below

Bitches wanna play games with a pro

I'm no pro, i'll have you know, competition's been slow

Poppa took the television, but left the radio