This is a song about "Your therapist"

I'm fittin' shit, your hatin' it, your littleness, your genitals.

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

Your eyes it's my paradise, your

Gold chains, 24, niggas must be shinin' more

Separating your body from your face then eating your name,

All them other boys targets and i'm flawless with the aim

My gun your scars, your wrist your calls

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts

Knowing you shouldn't think that way and trying to freeze your brain

Im coming threw your hood taking your soverigns and your chain

Took the van, went snatch her

Your on fire.. your on fire

This ain't 1992 bullets tumblin' out no nines

Sethered your spine, your movement lines

It's like we both forgot what we were fightin' for

Conjure your fears kill your parents become your foster