This is a song about "Above"

Way above there level

I'm mental, it's instrumental

And stab bruno mars in his goddamn esophagus

We writing about love for our nigga above

"what you doin'?" nothin' much, would shout some other stuff

My own personal blimp saying,"nobody is above."

Now momma told me be careful who you love

I write it like i was given this gift from up above

From above is my leader

My records sell, yes sir

Love reefer and love sneaker above those

"listen to the track bitch!" echoes

Admit that you deny the one above,

Or closed casket for our troubles

Turned to be wheat mystics left above

Say a grown man can separate lust from love