This is a song about "Results"

Hit it then i quit it ‘fore she even made the bed

I don't even wanna know what kinda results we would get

That's the results of you betta stay back, you can't rap heart attack.

Told my niggas, aye i'm finna put the ville on the map

Wish you niggas father understood where the condom was

Come around the real underground then expect the results,

Now hire about street schemes, and getting blood money

Battling sanity often results in hilarity

Luxury life, results living bad

It ain't my place to say and i hear all that

Until they have to go and collect the results

Swag-er. this is a mixtape about... nothing. not on drugs

If you don't know, maybach is the clique

Sometimes it results in a permant sleep.