This is a song about "Your obese"

Fuck your prison, fuck your life

I'm the author for gangsters, tough guys

Except she's got a little more ass

Of your image, your touch, your laugh

Sethered your spine, your movement lines

This ain't 1992 bullets tumblin' out no nines

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts

My gun your scars, your wrist your calls

You may be obese, but i make you look miniscule

And hell if i'm gon tell him, now shut up and play it cool

That damier bag i bought her

Your our provider