This is a song about "Styles"

You boneheads styles not yet perfected

No less profit, themed when we drop shit

And if i must say right now, i think my styles on the brink.

Her mom died, heroin overdose stuffed in her wrist

Because there ain't no coming back from that

You boneheads styles not yet perfected

He screamed "thug life" and emptied the clip

Styles immaculate, heat seaker counterfeit

High styles crumbling leaves

I give bitches dick and leave

Fuck her friendthen i pass her to the big homiegot a sign on my dick

Wild styles to mimic, just throw me the key to the honda civic

A lyrical shapeshifter can use different styles

You listenin' to her is leaving you with empty nights