This is a song about "Al queda"

Al-right, continue to impose my might.

More money to count, yeah you know i’m gettin' right

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

So kids say fuck school don't follow the rules they'll al be asking for your money

The therapist nicknamed me kid cudi, i killed my fifth buddy

Al give ye a tip seen as ye you canny see me visually

Because your booty mad thick behind them juicy ass lips

Mixed with diluted cider brewed with, tools from al-qaeda units

Dear momma don't cry, your baby boy's doin good

These are al the symptoms of growing up in tha hood.

I'm al capone in a fedora, execution on the church altar

Don't see this deeper than music, don't hear it but feel the author

And it's still tight, i like when it's real tight

Al-right, continue to impose my might.