This is a song about "Son telling his dad i jate you"

Thank you for my wife. for my son and everything i have,

You fucking dead bitch chips, i'm on my fifth bag with your bitch ass

Lyrical pictures, they used to have a windowless vision

Always a jokester, stubborn as mule but i miss having you call me son

If a period is late then i will mark it with a question

If you have to touch hardware i feel bad for you son

That we ain't never had

Well its between you and dad

For fear of what you show them, reality is golden

If you have to touch hardware i feel bad for you son

No top on mine, niggas gonna hate, man fuck them guys

Hit the club and i let it fly, claim you balling nigga telling lies

Wonder how shit like the qu'ran and the bible was written

You faggots had your chance to pan me, i plan to be grimy son,

You just working with the scraps you was given

Back of your mind, i know you wanna stop me son