This is a song about "Sweaty cunts"

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

Like an erection on these weak cunts my bars hit heavy

With canons hanging from our necks like it's a mothafuckin' circus

Her epidermis urgently sweaty like she was nervous

I still got your letters laying in my dresser drawer

Surrounded by the thirst driven sweaty messes blocking the door

You ain't ready, i can tell cuz your hands sweaty/

When you rapping how i'm rapping, they fellatio free

And you are you too, but bitch i'm three

Brows grow sweaty but every petty

For me it's all that matters i harm cunts with slashes

If ya’ll about to hate then alleviate the diss

J cole, don trip, drake, big sean

Cunts goin round wid a strap, one shot your bros gone//

To get ourselves up out that dream, no i’s in team

Every week nosy cunts reading a magazine