This is a song about "An island"

If he does my soul to keep

An immortal technique

And naw that ain't your girl, dog, but you be feelin' that chick

You've got an appetite of an anorexic,

I'll bust then i'll run an,

Playboy, i don't own that man

And i believe in them, a couple lames out there had beef with them

Supply an entire island of flies, or a botanical garden

And i was one of the fish in this tiny small island

Anti-violent...stylin, lyrically inclined and

And put wack rappers on a island with a chain to the neck

For that living large, but mama i ain't done yet

Since napster the sales been crashin' and

Residin in brooklyn and long island//

I'm high as the fuckin moon, set the bar higher even when i slouch

Now i'm fuckin bitches on the island couch.