This is a song about "Andrew wharton"

Right past the poor in clothes they can't afford

Wolf of wall street my favourite sport

Out of this coviction of feelings

Said that they tried to give him like a hundred years

This for my niggas that really rap hard

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Hittin your door while your car's spinning, hitting the wall

It ain't hard, swear to god, these niggas ain't real at all

The dream of martin luther king can be put on hold

But i did have miss medusa, she loud and she leave me stoned

When they twist and talk with they fingers

Maybe it your work, maybe your lack of worth

Cause your life is never what they tell you its worth

See me, i’d rather cut let ya body give birth

To get a pair, niggas killed him right in front the mall

Smiling silly smiles stricken down the silent wall