This is a song about "Swag and style"

That collectively murks ur style and the circle u stay around//

We don't speak to informants, they just look for a way out

Every problem you ever had with another man i gotta face

With what was once original style becoming more and more commonplace.

You got mad style and now my hands tied

Dc cabs got my pops alright

Invented my style and put it in cement/

I confessed bein' atheist, they said i was possessed

Yo, i'm a hot and bothered astronaut crashing while

Got congratulated cause my lyrics and my style

Every visit to neimans, i swear don't even see a tag

She got a nice swag, and the apple bottom like that apple like mac