This is a song about "Ribs"

And we don't fucking make horrorcore, you fucking idiots

Always asking to eat her spinach dip, then after, we eat her ribs,

Well, i have a gram cupcake mix

Kick then get kicked in the ribs

I brittle your ribs, you the type of guy that fiddles with kids

Heavenly father, martin, malcolm mixed with them lyrics

Breaking ribs, shitting top hits just in case you missed

Shout out to joe and chris, it's a.p on my wrist

Umm made her ribs snap nigga,

Beautiful are thou, africa

Up against your ribs causing the stress to spike,

I give my heart to one broad, the others get the pipe

And grip whips to switch hits to each ribs

I only got four minutes

Kick to the chest, your ribs go crack

Chat up your lookin off your knee pad