This is a song about "These steetz"

Striking with interest in these

I'm hot breeze, snot sneeze

Not likely like stay long please

Normally i'm not warning these

Demons, these angels just took control of these beasts

And if we don't we'll have a race of babies

All these motherfuckers see that i'm searing these critics,

Maxi pad, leave the beat brown like rihanna lips

And all we lack is communication like service sucks

These rap skills are cunning i'm gunning at all these stupid fucks

Bitches talk to me, and they send you niggas postcards

I'm calling these shots i'm jumpin these charts