This is a song about "Aim"

Email too, facebook, aim, everything gone

Said "how?" "don't trip," but, yo, the trick is wrong

I love that hour glass shape you got up on that frame

Its my trigger finger just slit when i aim

I can't take a big l, my city needs me, i gotta win

Masturbation seems to be primary aim of this nation,

Mane, my aim is rain on you shame,

Playing field ain't levelling the lane

But once the smoke clears, you right back where you was

I aim like i hold the gold compass, a gold atlas.

Too drunk to aim, so i might accidentally

Now hire about street schemes, and getting blood money