This is a song about "Records"

Beetle the skin on my female that's word to cee-lo she fine

I rap just to pass time mat ta fact i used to sell records for a dime,

Check my records, i killed every single fucking objector!

I bet you like these rap niggas, ain't going to write it better

Of the very same baby that the virgin mary raised

Now i'm putting out these records so that hood shit is explained,

So behold these are the bitter truths of life that will forever remain untold

Didn't even care whether it's summer or blistering cold , platinum records were getting sold

It's kinda fresh you listen to more than wale

You wear a shirt, my records even in a jail

I remember when i used to bust a mack with my eyes closed

You couldn't ship gold records if the only copy you pressed was solid gold

And torture me by forcing me to listen to records claiming they

As: my dad can’t satisfy her in the bedroom ever since he passed away

I see a f-cken stargot your momma screamingfor me, like i'm eldebargelookin at my skin

No matter how many records we wreck and diss them,i do it for fun like exhibition