This is a song about "Saints"

Cause all you got now is too much room space, shoe space

Y’all ain’t the praising saints with the perfect angel’s face,

With my lost saints. i love thee with the breath,

The best is that which i accept and nothing less

Like hard in the paint, no saints in sight

Don't worry just done get inside

My rhymes so hot they make the saints sizzle

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

Heyyy! better daysgot me thinkin' 'bout better days

Y’all ain’t the praising saints with the perfect angel’s face,

Jesus christ, the king of these latter-day saints here

Ohh baby i love the way you make a nigga feel

Go to school today, tomorrow, the day after

Gold saints i despise so that don't even matter