This is a song about "She s es"

That’s why the paparazzi made that nigga hit his fucking head that’s what that fool get

Leasin' a vehicle quick enough to see people that don't even exist yet

My bitches ballin' to the maya moore's, yes

If only i could go back into the 80’s

Quis es, unus servi? latin, sound like i'm from camelot

I'm trynna beat up every beat until my feet at the top

We don't believe you, you need more people

It’s sick and spiteful, 2pac’s twisted grim disciple

Hit me up in a couple days, we can try again

Invest in a gat just to keep these bitc*es tame

Abc, skip the d she’s got double e’s

To the 'r'. ruin niggas hopes of success

Till you scream " what s my what s my name whats name!!!!

I’ve seen this young’un on the train, i had to pick his brain

And my hadukid is watch how i do them, see

Like s b meets the wutang, gotta get that creamery