This is a song about "Shooting babies with guns"

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

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

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

Handicapping amass babies

As much as i wanna leave

I'm why baby mamas leave

I don't really want no babies,

Snipers on the rooftops with guns, triggers plant the seed,

J big as a muffler, we puff that meineke weed

That's gon' make it hard to smile in the futurebut through whatever you see

How we trust 'em with our guns, where's our freedom and liberty,

The capital punishment, the loud police sirens

So hard you get hit with these puns spit lyrical guns

Never was a thug just infatuated with guns

By the water, au revoir to my audience