This is a song about "Ricky smith"

Just put on one of me or big sean's cds and roll me some

My fists are weapons, don't need the smith and wesson,

We at the bar takin shots like bullets from smith and wesson

Now i move with aggression, use my mind as a weapon

Nerds are testing, hit 'em when i switch to smith and wesson,

And he tryna make it front row to the show to throw me one

But here i am, ricky bobby, shake and bake it

Sippy cup full of whip creamed hot chocolate

Welcome to hell, niggasi rock bad bitches

You know i got that soul like i'm bessie smith.

Here’s a tissue for you bitches

Fifty grand in my pants like ivy smith

That's what ricky bobby said

Finished mean done, and done mean dead