This is a song about "Who makes up these raps i m curious"

That makes up my product. every time i rap, the haters

Baby told me that she never memorized a verse

Nate, you could never keep up with the raps i kill

Dope enough to snort crack and sit the fuck still

And when we on the road, bitches follow the tour bus

Who makes up stories with an act who plays tough

Who knew i could rip these lyrics

A rebel tho, i dont hold my lips

Hell yahtry to dirty up my name

My raps were straight up lame, i didn't have a flame

Then i'm bustin' like an uzi in this bougie ass chick

I know i'm a skinny white boy who raps like a drug addict

But she only fuck with boss niggas - lames, you outta luck

I write these angry raps on my paper to try and open up,

I'm not crazy i 'm doing gods deeds

We gotta find peace and end the war in the streets