This is a song about "Your gf"

So these bars not mine, nigga it's yours

My gun your scars, your wrist your calls

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

Your just signing your death so mind your threats

Ill cut your thtroat, chop your head and pluck out your eyes,

Get ya' cake right, every chicken wanna slice

That's your soul along with your principles and your morals

I'm out bk with these fast girls and all my cash good i miss slow bucks

Freezing your nose, your eyes, your corneas,

Oh how she love the gangstas, they love them green ones

Temperatures risesniggas blinded by my lyrical disguise

You need to get a gf before even contemplating a wife

Just put your hand on the glass

Of your image, your touch, your laugh