This is a song about "Weak mixtapes"

Let my angel sing

Weak stomach, i need something

Lips, hips, hair drips down her back, crazy, body frame, crazy

Mixtapes calling out names, cleaning out closets, cuz know one knows me

What do i really need

They cunts think that we are weak

Because they weak, like seven days.

Yeah hail mary full of grace

Them people weak them people weak

When thugs crynow i lay me down to sleep

Artillery weak with guns

3m's on my new balance

Pack a bad bitch then i pass it to my nigga meek

My verve asleep, but verses averse to weak

All my shit designeri fucked your bitch in versace, nigga

And it was mixtape after mixtapes and then the