This is a song about "Your seniors"

Lucky seven probably poppa

Leave your running to your mamma,

Sethered your spine, your movement lines

Stuntin' in some other jordan nines

But i'd just rather 2-step, like my first steps

Your just signing your death so mind your threats

Can't wear grs, i'm pitching cocaine

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

Of your image, your touch, your laugh

Right cash, pretty girls nice ass

Separating your body from your face then eating your name,

Now you scratchin' on my back, i see your pleasure in my pain

My gun your scars, your wrist your calls

Metaphor, chilling with better whores