This is a song about "Your hiesenburg"

Roll your eyes & talk your shit.

I know what you do with that

That wet wet in my two seaterher nails done, her hair did

Your lyres are cheat so hold your pen open your book-let

Just to let you know, you are

Your on fire.. your on fire

Lucky seven probably poppa

Leave your running to your mamma,

Your eyes it's my paradise, your

Look, viewin life from the 36th floor

I'm fittin' shit, your hatin' it, your littleness, your genitals.

Out in the district they selling water and buying pistols

Then lost her faith again

Blood stain, your slain, your brain

They left the keys to the brand new porsche

My gun your scars, your wrist your calls