This is a song about "Tank tops"

I'm banking a full tank, you're running on low gas

Lord lord forgive us, personality clash

I got a closet full of them thrift store tank tops, and you ain't even know it,

Come close, catch a contact, i got a loud pack in my cargo pocket

Competition i ain't winning but admit it, i'm still in it though

Hostile flow,ripping pathetic individuals,soon on the tops charts i'll glow

And mine somewhere bout mars

Blood stainin black and white tops

The corn-tops ripe and the old breeze blowin',

Little nigga so they picked on him, hassled him

I'm too explosive for your ears like i'm throwing bombs

I only fuck bitches who bust out of tube tops

Never gon' see the day that i ain't got the upper hand

Would be sin-bad if every lie was a water filled fish tank

The big bad wolf to me you're just a minor fox

Black sneakers. black tops. talking smack while the smack drops