This is a song about "Alex berushing his teech"

I'm in a rare breed, extraordinary league

A tear down his cheek and his legs feel weak

She going to borrow some money

Murder his family

On his dying wish, his grave, his name, they set his astray house aflame,

That god isn't finished with me yeti feel his hand on my brain

Ali shaheed muhammad q-tip i'm trynna follow

And yes, his left wrist represents the way that his day go

Money back on my mind

His thoughts disorganized

His conscience can take him to his grave

Lookin' for these better days

You can search but you'll never find

Took his head n' beckoned his mind

I make forty-some dollars a day

Now his rank stripped and his life taken away,