This is a song about "Saints"

Weird niggas make sick too i don't need no pistol

My rhymes so hot they make the saints sizzle

Roll you up and let it run through my veins

I dont know whether your apostles or saints

Alonzo, my condo cost three mil', this shit real

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

Like hard in the paint, no saints in sight

Watchin the cops roll byit ain't easy... that's right

She don't even need a job, got one anyways

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

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

Nothing but my dreams matterhoping for better days

Gold saints i despise so that don't even matter

Flow so sick thought he wrote the rap for him - no sir