This is a song about "Aim"

Hand my ass a gun and i prolly couldn't even aim right

Love to keep bakin new pies, strapin the scrapes off the side

And dip her teeth in gold molds and flossed the shit

All these haters get aim- itis evrey time i spit

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

I've mastered this ask of me, my raff ain't practice

I got great aim though, don't insult me

Trying to catch me riding dirty

Different chef, same pot bro, not guianese buddy

I gotta' aim high, that's my ability,

We're the same, i aim to separate you from this

Quick to socializing with the baddest bitches

Conversations on the phone til the break of dawn

Email too, facebook, aim, everything gone

Better aim than a shooter,

That damier bag i bought her