This is a song about "Your six pack ain t shit"

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

Big red creature with a six pack of the apocalypse

Go dissed raise your hands and rise up start screamin t

Lately i been stressing so i need you like i’m crazy

Your all talk and no pack rapping action or word forming.

These niggas is bothered, these critics be talking

Pack your back,go home,get the fuck out homo

Cause all i really wanna do is fuck and snort blow

Then put the can to yo six pack like budweiser

Don't always fuck me good, i'm just too cheap to divorce her

Number six, you're braggin how you run with your cliques

And i don't do colorful jeans or shiny kicks