This is a song about "Your moms fat"

Niggas shoot over bitches

You cant get your fat head round this.

I got the sickest flow, i got your moms seven digits for 1 dollar not a penny mo,

Creep with methrough that immortal flowthug passion got you tremblinglike death on the row

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

Call your moms, tell her to plan yer burial

Ya plans will surly shatter, your rhymes are pretty fat be mines a little fatter.

So i tried to show her about the world and about just who we really are

Over the edge, yeah i hide in a potato sack

Yeah you think you're all that cuz your snap back and your fat stack/

I don't respect no brain unless we talkin' that saliva spit

And that's action your wack rap pad'll have a fat chance catchin' on that ballot

Why haven't you fled, run! your fat #buns gonna be part of my #mac's lunch

Look into your eyes i realize that i like you so much

And i rap like a nigga who invented rap

So play back... "whoa ho i'll cut your bodily fat!"