This is a song about "Sore throat"

Cain and able/back to back/ throat to throat/

And yea i should’ve seen the signs by my first quote

I'll grip my fist around your throat,

The street slang i be speakin in code

I tell them killers they ain't figure what they fightin' for

Set in store through each sore formed by this semi-auto repeater

Though she can hardly walk cos i had to make her sore

Pine-green foams, they may never see the store

I fucking hate this job

Perhaps it goes right down ya throat,

Imma karate punch your throat

That i'd, never ever ever go broke

As soon as i walk in the door

Making these fool sore over his last whore.

Nothin sweet when i attend, see

Her knees are sore 'cause she blow me