This is a song about "Trapping on the weeknds"

Snorin' in the bed with blankets cause my head spin

Bleeding on the carpet, drooling on my chin

When you took my hand up so calm

"hurry up, the cams on,

My shit on the radio your shit on the shelf

What the bloodclot, tommy frazier fuck yourself

Won't heat or burn me, i'm the coolest nigga here

Grams on the deal i got hands on the wheel,

Picked the worst career to be stable on, cable's on

At dinner with hov hoping that he pass the baton

Choked the one on the throne

Back in my zone

Layin on his chest in the sand time forgotten on the dash.

'09 gold diggers, walkin with a different path

From los angee area anytime i'm fucking landing

Your bars are far from attractive they need to stick to trapping