This is a song about "Tags"

Better check ur facts b, i pop tags like its acne,

With some matching pink panties, lipstick from my granny

We pop tags like its acne, passin l's to the backseat

I never change, i'm like a corpse in a coffin, six feet shit's deep

That lil kid jackin tags, leavin people black and blue.

Make me wanna write my own little song for you

But i keep that to myself, i never tell and rip the tags.

So nigga listen you can probably learn a lesson perhaps

I didn't get invited, im the one that tags along,

You brought and chose, guess she moving on, yep, we do it wrong

Falls flat on his back, pulls out his tags

Cause i show fur, no bikini wax

Flyer than the rest of them

Bring them toe tags in again