This is a song about "Washing your hands"

Like being garbage some type of disease

Soon you'll be on your hands and knees begging please

Put your hands in the air, bank clerk... work!!!

I'm why baby fathers kirk

Blinded by all these street lights, up late, can't sleep nights

Feel it your hands, the wind between the pines

Put your hands in the air, bank clerk... work!!!

I ain't trynna be forward

Worlds in your hands now, better believe

Nigga, i'm a bastard, i fuck with chord keys

Gotta get back to the d, you know we finally famous

And if you wanna be famous, put your hands in my anus

Go dissed raise your hands and rise up start screamin t

But if you took a second mr. mirror, you would see

Wash the blood of your fucking hands

Cause if i shoot blanks, oops, thanks