This is a song about "Waist"

Look, just remember how that winning taste

You'd have three chins n' a more than a portly waist

A 45 trey deuce spade sprayed, you stayed

Your waist of space while i levitate

I felt my body get heavy, from my neck to my waist.

They see me in that lavender tank, you'd rather just faint

From the shaft on my my waist in case you was bout to ask him

That's because thats these compton streets was built not to win

But not a single fuck for y'all bitches

But bigger than what her waist is

You'd have three chins n' a more than a portly waist

Of the very same baby that the virgin mary raised

My name hold weight and you don't really keep the bar raised

Speakers loud; heavy base, pants sagged pass my waist

Your neck and face from your chest and waist

Cause i’m going out with a fist raised