This is a song about "Your mena"

Your just signing your death so mind your threats

Odd future leaving even niggas in past tense

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

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

Roll your eyes & talk your shit.

I know the world been waiting for that

Leave your running to your mamma,

Santana, zeke the kufi poppa

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

But when i knock this shit off, i'mma go and buy some laker shit

Where's your wealth? where's your fame?

Balling, but it’s not a game

They think they bring that pain

Blood stain, your slain, your brain

Freezing your nose, your eyes, your corneas,

Smoke until i ain't got no lungs