This is a song about "Testicles are off limits"

We all here, from the dealers to the kids

A shooting range with bullet limits

I guess insane trains of thoughts are starting to pay it off,

It's so hard for civilians, thank god you with a boss

Yo man are you pissed off? by my lines,

All the time with this glock of mines

But i guess i'm just gonna make this fish stew because

My gats are cocked for more, lock the door and i'll just knock it off

And, uh, i don’t know what keeps me alive, shit

Criminal intent, out of breath, reach limits per minute,

And if you disagree, suck a couple pimple-covered dicks

Tickets to mimic my shimmick have hit the mischief limits,

Speed limits get eliminate

Our vision never changed, we self made