This is a song about "Yoga pants"

Fifty grand in my pants like ivy smith

Y’all rambling, talking shit to these bitches

While i'm tryin' to act like i'm not 'bout to crap my own pants

This bitch is badi dream of pockets full of bands

Box logo hoodies and goodies from buddies that understand

You nearly pissed ya pants as ya extended ya hand,

Don’t you be holding back, your love

Saggy pants an vacant faces,

Your pants get hit with cancer

The ice ain't really nothing to her

And they the ones talking bout tuckin gats in they pants!

Bitches don't clap with their hands, so i do not talk to my hands

I got a green bag with them blue strands

I literally almost shit my pants/

If u keep takin dollars out they pants

I'm on the stage, you in the stands