This is a song about "Yoga pants and tuna"

Teacher asked you a question and you pissed your pants like swimmin in pools

My own worst enemy so fuck it either way i can't lose

Your pants get hit with cancer

The game's a bitch, ooh we got her

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

Funeral staff n' tubas, cadavers packaged like tuna

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...

Saggy pants an vacant faces,

Look, i'm back like niggas on a bus

Rack city, rack city she need a shovel

Attached like pants keepin casual

That shit was ludicrous/ her pussy smelt like tuna-fish

Your grind's feeble, i'm regal, really, i'm willy smith

My hands grabbing everything in sight, and my pants sagging,

Fuck you post-drake-ass cliche-jerking, la-slauson rapping