This is a song about "Slamming babies"

Suspicious babies in britches

Let's have a toast for this new love

Because i'm seventeen, compose my own beats

Sun is shinin as im makin babies

Home to asthmatic babies in her tenement

A straight thug motherfucker who ain't scared to bust

Cause i don't need no babies.

Ima let her be by herself in peace

You just want jewelry and all them fuckin shopping sprees

Your rhymes are developed as aborted babies

Lucky seven probably poppa

We're lookin out for your babies mama

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

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

And lastly for everybody who doubted i can't live without you, please

And staying on your smell, uh, licing, twenty year old tween pimple poppin babies