This is a song about "Your shit dont make sense"

My pistols represent mebust until my rounds emptyback for the street fame

Because i dont make it rain,i will take your brains and make a pavement stain

To liberate yourselves, africa

I'm not your number one? dont make me deal with ya,

So being in the kitchen whipping would make sense

Money stacked to the ceiling just as quick as it dispense

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

And dont bother resting your case because this shit aint even over

It’s starting to make sense

I'm on deck i'm up next

Still doesn’t make sense to me

I'm on i-80 though with my baby

No, i can’t called bitch i’m lying, i don’t use my phone, shit

Dont fake it,your feminine raps wont let u make it

I can taste the salt from my tears

The shit u say doesnt make sense