This is a song about "Small t shirts"

Basically these basic bitches crop shirts til they're not covering

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

Your raps don"t even rhyme!

Huh, got to get better with time

Said i'm bad motherfucker from the w e s t

Fuck it its mmg, ima cross of def poetry and potent tree

They smoke black and wear black hats, with red shirts,

You hear the words coming from my lips bastards

The sickest people couldn''t have even imagined

Seven, what's religion nigga? i am legend

They fiend in the door

You don;t thin anymore

Master big t with the fire it's astounding,

She was so stuck, a fool in love with the wrong thing