This is a song about "Yacht"

And your loves in hindsight and you see everything its not

Let him rot, trod on his yacht that's the plot give him a fucking blood clot

You gotta look at reality, understand that shit so you don't get caught

Put a quarter in the slot, got a lot might as well buy a yacht/

Then i switched the grill on the chevy, got a nose job

As i'm dumping your body over the back of my yacht.

Icon or bennetti, it's just yacht chat

Make a mess outta tracks, got my hat back

Only real niggas stay on top

Caught and locked, over my yacht you drop.

Watch this, hey quik let me see them binoculars, nigga

I float in the pussy like my dick is a yacht uh

You better get yours fore i reach mine

Livin on a yacht yeah maritime