This is a song about "Proper prop"

Baby, you don’t have to try to read my mind

Prop my verse/ so i can stop the curse and murk this child

He'll lack the proper fiber to not be wearing any diapers

You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse

Cause i'm batman with the pump, johnny johnny

I'm a misanthropic proper maniac, potty

You proper stopping motion sloppy slow and awfully old

Righteously living, i know all my verses be cold

Pardon my absence, i'm actually far out of town wit a pound

The proper noun to explain my offer now is lost as my outer sound

They say i walk around like i got a s on my chest

If you had the proper intellect you'd know when ta show respect

Where there’s minimal conscience and there’s thousands of choppers

Proper-ly in slanted postures nigga we some mutha fucking monsters