This is a song about "Table"

My coffee, put it on a flat table mat,

Pump, fake, jumpshot, ball hit the back

Cause see way back, i thought to fuck with you was impossible

He's got his face in a mask, your blood stains on his glass table

I grabbed a candle of the table, then i beat him down.

It's a man's worldbut real women make tha shit go around

I can make music that makes sense, but not meant to be stable

I'll still be able to break a motherfuckin' table

Fumble or you crumble, get murked on the humble

Wake up six hours later naked on the table

To say life goes on, now they're counting money on the table

Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will

Count your baby daddy’s now, 2 and a possible

That i'll still be able to break a motherfuckin' table

It's typical how traditionally i position a syllable,

I'm going to bury you in this box i made outta your own kitchen table