This is a song about "Your bich mom"

Your mom blows, she's a hoe

Got it matching though

Sick of tha sirens, body bags, and tha gun firing

Commit suicide, slit your throat, they find your mom crying

We back on these highways moving cakes

Uh, that's the sound your mom makes,

Wolves is out past dawn on your front lawn

Got those 7 digits from your mom at the pawn/

Full of shit, like i ate that john

Well go cry to your mom

Yo poor ass probably live with your mom in a shack

Look how i do it, yo i'm taking you back

I will fuck your mom with strap on,

Come on kids, fuck that class and hit that bong