This is a song about "Shooting a faggot in the nutsack with a gold dandelion"

The ball in my fingers. i be shooting threes outside all day with my hittas and i

Just thanking the holy fatherhe made a star and shita youngin still ain't die

Black women hold it down shawty, it's all love

I aim like i hold the gold compass, a gold atlas.

I'm stabbing any blogging faggot hipster with a pitchfork

Dad wasn't around -- my father figure was too short

Shooting ink upon the looseleaf like a lazer

She still don't know i made sarah to strangle her

Cause lord knows, for years i triedand all the other people on my block hate your guts

Never felt better chillin with buds on ghosts with a vector shooting thugs

Its tragic tho, been cast a role to crash into traffic slamming in panic to a faggot hoe

Tell me i ain't god's son, nigga mom a virginwe got evicted had to leave the burbs, back in the ghetto

Now i'm playin' solitaire patient

These streets ain't paved gold, walk with a limp