This is a song about "Silent guards"

I'm ring winnin, my jeans different

Disregard the silent tyrant

Now i'm rising up and fighting, ain't no guards, fuck protection,

Get the scoop on the cologne, belt, and shoe section

Bitch ill fuck you up; call your body guards.

Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards

I'm the prototype with a godly protocol

Smiling silly smiles stricken down the silent wall

We buying they hoes bags, getting they bitches shoes

Janitors and cooks and guards and tellers, that's bad news,

But that throat she got have a nigga stuck

If he doesn't keep silent and shut the fuck up

In this rusty cunt, that won a cup in collectin' dust

When i come through the cut everything becomes silent/

I got these tats all on my arms

// [you can call out your guards]