This is a song about "Testicles are off limits"

Did you fix me up, i'm your number 1 fiend

In need of fresh bed sheets, my limits are reached

Tickets to mimic my shimmick have hit the mischief limits,

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

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

As you niggas, niggas get familiar with the art of loss

And they'll forever out ya, that's why you always quiet

Ripping the limits of quickness when i'm spitting this sick shit

Kidnap a dt, tie his ass to a cross

So fuck macklemore, his tickets are rip off

Jacking off to buffering vids of asher roth eating apple sauce

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

I'm ripping the limits of quickness when i'm spitting this slick shit

I'm the first one to do that i bet you never knew that