This is a song about "Slap dat booty"

They play musical chairs once i'm on that pedestal

So pretty mama make that booty accessible/

And what fucking bitch did i slap?

You, you, you have to pay for that

And i didn't just want to grip on your booty

And you are you too, but bitch i'm three

Slap her with a newspaper

My pockets got paper on paper

She ordered dat pastrami on rye

Blowin' fluke horns, i'm not high

Now who thinks their arms are long enough to slap box, slap box?

Took a shot, tired of runnin from the niggas and the cops

And for the time being lets me in love with the moment

Cuz your mixtape dropped dat shit on dat piff sucked

Hands up, throw me up against the wall

Hit me up for a booty call.