This is a song about "Putter space"

Overseas or outer space

Prps cover my eight’s, uhh, lemme switch my pace

She don't even need a job, got one anyways

Colosseum cell bars, 2 men enter no space

And i was getting whipped at home in sixth grade

Your waist of space while i levitate

Tryin hard to hide my face

We're running out of space,

Music getting louder, bass is bumping out in outer space

Me and my family, my friends, nigga we ride for you always

Been tryin my best to give you your space

Move like i’m walking with an open case

I look ahead, i see outer space

Henny in my cup don't need no chase

Tap, tap it in putter

She should have invited her