This is a song about "Run on sentences"

Beasting see me, me, i'm the mc on some run-type shit

And my vision isn't set on the money i get

I've got a paper plane, it's propelling my buzz

I sense some censorship while your dwelling on sentences

Been ready to run up on it like a us embassy/

If we thinking success is only measured by your money

That whatever it creates it will land in the head

Spitting sentences spilling residue on his crew neck

Boy, you better run, cause you on deathbed,

Head first in that goddamn river, you're dead

Lucky seven probably poppa

Get your sentences cut off comma,

Trying hard to speak and

Went on the run it isn't

Crip on the run, nipsey hustle on the gun

Ross and folarin, couple women