This is a song about "You ain t sittin up top"

Sittin up in the trees, spittin "what?" to whatevers beneath

Feed niggas shells like my motherfucking beach is nice

My bitch likes to cut the dope and bag it for a fee

My identity thrown up top, primarily,

Girl no matter what you do you ain gonna cross the line,

I'm stressed anyway, need it for vacation time

Rat t-t-t-tatted up on my back

Yeah, the sex in the sack

Till your ligaments' stiff when rigarmortis get you little men sittin'

And there's something you ain't seeing like i block your vision

You say you ain fake or plastic? ha that's sarcastic, fool youre fake as graphics

That likes walking with his hips bragging about his marijuana hits.