This is a song about "The three branches"

And i got a little big, keep it low key

The way we used to count up to three

And losin all his money

At the age of fuckin three

Black tear compliment my black lips in the lamborghini

Rub the lamp take three wishes bitch im the genie

Your grind's feeble, i'm regal, really, i'm willy smith

And when the day end im chilling with three bad bitches

I told her this here's overrated but i love your city baby

Your fucking skinnier than the bare branches on a dying tree,

Your family tree, i will break branches

Because your pops wasn't anxious

From the discussion of top three

But we should be body to body

Will i, succeed, paranoid from the weed

Number three, you never even flow with the beat