This is a song about "Pumping gas"

Heart's cursed hurting, beating, pumping current

A straight thug motherfucker who ain't scared to bust

Still got my nike boots

Make him inhale the gas fumes

Enter my gas chamber, ya gangsta, my ass

But girl you’re special like i met you in the slow class

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

I'm banking a full tank, you're running on low gas

Of the nearest gas station,

I’m smoother than alopecia skin

Recording in the bathroom at the gas station,

I compliment you with your conversation

Through tracks, tombs, gas moons encircled

I ain't trying to be ignorant