This is a song about "Yous"

You ain't' doing shit til you put 10 gees on fantasy football

Im ready to brawl and yous stuttering trying to stall

I'm looking down on you fakes whilst on my throne throwin yous a bone.

I feel something change in the weather, and i’m home, home, home

Yous a dead motherfucker

I'll touch slap her, dap her, plus clap her

And guess who my nigga tell 'em is on the way

Yous a buster anyway, i can take you any day

Ima blow like i'm mothafuckin' sniffing lines

Stop pretending that yous packing nines

Ironin' you niggas now it's time to starch the shit

Sorrys and thank yous, i aint even tryna say it

Woah, just say yeah like yous a mufuckin taylor

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

Girl, i put in that work

I'm a vulture yous a buzzard