This is a song about "Your moms dead"

I gave ya girl a t-shirt since she gave the whole crew neck

Cause when i sit you in your place your reputation is dead

Last sigh expressed on why was it done but your fucking dead!

That whatever it creates it will land in the head

Put the beaver in the mail, we can take it slow like snail

Moms beg me to stop she said ill wind dead or in jail

I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots

A washed up queer licking tampoons out your moms

Code red, which means you go red

Id ask for your name, but that shits #dead

Send him the voicemail cause we all the way gone

Sprung from your moms bum, oh and bang it like a tin dong,

You keep continuing your gonna end up dead,

Kinda pop tart, when i bite into them red

So you better run away cause if i reach you your dead,

I say i put it so deep now she a cone head