This is a song about "Talking big imma show up at ya back door"

Imma look at the stars,

Sb nike's, with the grey box

Niggas lookin like larry holmes, flabby and sick

Imma crush that ass even if it ain't too big

He gets straight back up with a big grin in his head

That's equivalent, to the poison in a cigarette

When they show up at the door theyll dance to the hip hop

Banker banker, dealership, and the rim shop

Rise up and roll ya eyes back girls when it hits ya brain

Forgetting the seasonslames not in my lane

Imma bite ya face off

They right too cause

St. louis, detroit, chi-town, nap

Imma' take a step back

So imma call ya, fag cause in fact

I got weed, hash; when i breeze past, breathe fast