This is a song about "Pussynigga"

You spend days in your room to look perfect on the surface,

Dial up words but they're not in service

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service

And then bitch-slap her on purpose,

Now money is a service, but it's worthless, there's no purpose, shit,

Writing line after line i never quit, finish the lyrics now its time to spit.