This is a song about "Vending machines"

You strapped to machines, barley alive. doctors saying its a miracle,

Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will

Yo, i'm seventeen, already sniffing blow

Tryna wire machines but its a no go.

That's why i keep my pistol when i walk the streets

My rhyming's like the finest thing since time machines

My #dollars turn in more #chips than fucking vending machines,

And you are to serve the consequences of your evil schemes

As i stare at the ceiling fan, as a fan of these wicked streets

Of how they keep you still and down, convert people to machines

Yeah, you swear your girl is faithful; everything ain't what it seems

I spit verses hard and mean statistics say mine are fighting machines,

Spendin money on machines,

Little more weed, first class seats