This is a song about "Shirts"

Mic in my handi run like marion barberyou haters on the sidelines

They don't have the guts to spit the rhymes,tearing my shirts has got their lines,

C-squared wearin some hawaiian shirts, every one got there butt hurts,

Take a shot at the excorcist then x em out with these words

We dont got our shirts scrunched

A twenty somethin cup

They smoke black and wear black hats, with red shirts,

I refuse to be another being on this earth

Basically these basic bitches crop shirts til they're not covering

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing