This is a song about "Terrorizing little kids"

Asking little kids if they can

Put burners in the hands, of the black man

See you gotta get high or die, cause even thugs cry

Seen drive-bys takin' lives, little kids die

Affectin' little kids when they hear us drop a poem,

I’m popping now, every other hour, paparazzi come

I try and respect kids

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

Bitch i'll sift your shit and swiftly switch, i'm torturing little kids,

Make their feets get wet and funky up in they under arms

While little kids hide this tape from their parents like bad report cards

They bringing me fish and chips

A lesser measure of beggar kids

Little kids are at a loss

I put these poems all in these songs