This is a song about "Aim"

I swear the pen right across from hell, i can't cry

If you do then ima have to aim and fry

I got great aim though, don't insult me

Baby when i like that, i know it's crazy

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

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

Or aim for the head instead,

She don’t give her nigga head

Its my trigger finger just slit when i aim

I was so sincere like nas first name

And when we on the road, bitches follow the tour bus

Make music for the masses, but still aim for the bases,

I clap shit-aim at your heart

I'm so intact so i stay sharp

Soon as i get home

Aim bullets straight at your dome