This is a song about "Yoga pants and tuna"

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

As far as being hard, i feel i’m somewhere near medusa

Funeral staff n' tubas, cadavers packaged like tuna

Need it in my hands, and i need it in my pants

But it made me the man i am today, thanks

And i'mma throw this money while you do it with no hands

And a 'please to meet cha' when they reach in, the deep ends of your knee pants

I can eradicate a village if you give me a beat, huh

I'll put you in a coma shoot you in yoga you drink dicks like cola...

As i light one for ill will

Attached like pants keepin casual

Two for the pads, and two to take down your momma's pants

This bitch is badi dream of pockets full of bands

Tatted upt.y.g.a. basically gotta cremate me cause i'm fly 'til i die

And pants tight please be a dyke, cuz im a freakin freakazoid its like my