This is a song about "Rows"

Fuck your rows at fans at your shows and damn that ain't true,

You're my reflection and all i see is you

"listen to the track bitch!" echoes

And my ex hoes, she pop ex rows

You feel it from your head to your toes

All these grave stones are kept in clean little rows,

If i take an oath that mean i give up all my area code hoes

Thats just not how the fuck it goes, so bitch, sit the fuck down, in the rows

And my ex hoes, she pop ex rows

And these shape-shifting hoes

And i ain't spend a minute up in the streets

Running around the corner, darting past rows of teens,

For those you claim friends commit, get in the thunder cold, plant the rows

You chasing hoes, we replacing hoes, bag and pass them hoes

I was taught to act my shoe size, never my age

I sit on the stage, no rows at my shows, i live in a cage,