This is a song about "Your lips"

Pathological liars even know i'm the truth

I can see your lips move but i will rather choose

Freddie lips crimson and mistaken with the seagulls

Black women hold it down shawty, it's all love

Id run for miles just for a smile and kiss her lips

The dilemma is, you think i got no conscience

Gotcha lips baby while i pull your hair

You got a baby boy or girl in there

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

They were the perfect couple, they'd always lock lips

Silicone bitches got the confidence

So i could shine like other kinds with my lips

Like a myme trying to get his point across moving his lips.

Heavenly father, martin, malcolm mixed with them lyrics

Flowing on this beat like diarrhea from my lips

Have you with professional killas, chasing hits