This is a song about "Writing the next summer hits"

In the heat of the summer,

Udc where he met my mother

Wouldn't sell my soul to the devil for summer jam,

Fuck whoever said the rap game wasn't edible man

So i told her i got something you've been waiting for

Used to run the streets but now i'm runnin' every summer/

Heavenly father, martin, malcolm mixed with them lyrics

Put the haters in vein choking like smoker hits,

While they was laughing i was writing my next chapter

Hey, who dat, who dat? that nigga you been waiting for

These other niggas is lyin, actin’ like the summer ain’t mine

You cooking pork anyway, i ain't into to swine

Account overdraft what i got this debit for

10 chains i done copped em for the summer

Gotta wait till it hits the green sights.

This ain't 1992 bullets tumblin' out no nines