This is a song about "Syllables"

Without your love it's cold as fuck

Just need some syllables to go one up

Intense with eviction of syllables mixed with precision in minutes

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

What are you doing, learning to count syllables?

My paper long, yep, you left alone, you gets no fucks

I'm out bk with these fast girls and all my cash good i miss slow bucks

But then i got even more complex with the lyrical syllables

You'll never think it's typical in the syllables,

That mean im overflowin all you rappin niggas in cups

Syllables, skill-a-holic (kill 'em all with)

One time for the ville that cole rep

And niggas slippin if they think the fucking grip is a lie

With sicker syllables that go so high and touch the fucking sky

I'm despicable, burning off all these syllables/

We vegetables, on them record labels