This is a song about "Alan the assas"

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Temperatures drop; see it's cool to shoot a nigga

Put the lotion on the skin, in the acid, in the gutter,

I can do that to a nigga and make a pool on her

Blowin' fuck it i don't care, dreads is flyin' everywhere

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

As well as supper; then i'll rummage through her ruptured cunt

The water from the past is the same water in the present

I deserve a medal, lap 'em on every track

The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,

Boy, you can’t tell me a damn thang

Still the man with the pan