This is a song about "Washine machines"

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

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

No one stopping this elite team of dangerous machines

I’m a beast when my shit hits the streets these niggas cease

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

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

So fuck it, i'm platinum in the streets

My rhyming's like the finest thing since time machines

Ass shots in her seven jeans

Spendin money on machines,

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

That you allow me to work it 'til you know what your actual worth means