This is a song about "Terrible softball players"

I grew up in new orleans, ball players and rhyme stars,

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

I function with you and you flaunt your pistol

Terrible odds on a two faced nickel.

Bomaye, killa cam, my lord

Sup players, thanks for all the support,

Backwoods don’t do papers, that was just for my haters

I'm entertainin' 'til the players change to complainers

Ill give you quite a fright, or at least a terrible

Ddd-did i stutter the missing piece of the puzzle

Call 'em dumb players who are not sprayers

And i swear, my lord, i been down to earth

Antonym of amazing faggot you're terrible

To make karma come faster than she normally will

You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse

To maintain we must gain the trust of the game players,