This is a song about "You left me to stew even after all the lines we drew"

And all the laughter i'd capture after havin' to murder you

Avenue that avenue i'm doing more than just passing through

Love all the freaky shit even when you tie me to a chair,

Tell me where my soldiers at? put yo' pistols in the air

You bout to get the worst of me after i turn up,

Tell them to keep it running, i’m keeping the grass cut

All the people you left behind.

Pay my haters not too much mind

But the media seems to think that’s what we’re all after

To you niggas biting my flows and my subject matter

You didn't even talk to me on the phone

And firm his beliefs... his heart made of stone

And i don’t know why you sucker niggas can’t see

And when i flee, all the bees come after me

Under pressure i don't sweat like my pores shut

Ends in a fuck to cover up the muck we stew up,