This is a song about "Tra la la"

Particularly, these bitches that's inner ugly and outer pretty

But muerte es la vida; death is part of life see; only "god" can judge me

Not generic from ny, la, the chi, what hood am i gon talk about?

Cuz if i hit it now these feelings take a different route

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

We keep hitting our words quicker like a star la dodgers home base hitter

All my shit designeri fucked your bitch in versace, nigga

We go our separate ways/ i say asta la vista

Je suis la garçon qui cracher flamme, french, i just cannot

Vroom vroom, keep the motor running girl, you know it don't stop

To liberate yourself, africa

Distribution, new york, to chicago, l.a.