This is a song about "Writing a good son"

I'll like to tell you i'm the type to get all woman

Knowing they gotta a daughter or a son

Shit, come down, its not that much of a suprise son!

Hard to move on when you always regret one

And he tryna make it front row to the show to throw me one

Homosexuality's a sin, but that's dirty son?

Instead of writing a rap, writing an essay

I'm curious jorge, fuck what dem whores say

Only fear death when you staring down a loaded gun

Cough up a lung where i'm from, the south son,

Here's my account, son, of why i rap so good,

It's pain in my eyes but these yves saints blind you to look

Telling me shutup, i’m leaving youthe reason you ain’t even got one

Shrine in a timely fashion never been cought ain't tryna brag son

Its a home run, your domes done, go home son

Mami... she open, she open