This is a song about "Shirts"

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

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

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

So i can write about my life of sina couple bottles of gin

So dunn stay silent

We dont got our shirts scrunched

Cuz id be lyin and yall be fine chase bread with my dog muthafucka felines

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

Crystal glasseswe mash on them jealous bastards

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