This is a song about "Vending machines"

Ass shots in her seven jeans

Spendin money on machines,

Tryna wire machines but its a no go.

Two of her friends strip she never judge them though

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

The more small people at your door like please can i receive

My rhyming's like the finest thing since time machines

Haters eyes gettin' wide like bench seats

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

On award tour, on excursions, i'm a virgin of swap meets

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

Maybe i should buy some hundreds, wear some fucking skinny jeans

No one stopping this elite team of dangerous machines

Goin crazy, i might be no sleep having light dreams