This is a song about "Batch production"

You're uncool like my mother kin

Knock you straight out of production

I tried to warn, a test, a swarm or batch

When i'm seen in that, they gon snatch

Whipping up a batch of whoop ass from a giant can

To witness the realest shit that's ever been told to man

Now hire about street schemes, and getting blood money

Quicken my raps, while i sicken the batch viciously.

Just to feed his inner cat, his inner batch of unheard raps, getting fatter

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

And gary coleman just passed: life is short

Trife emcee this is a parkside production record

Got me engraved in this sofa, zero production is what i make.

Kill you, shoot the funeral up and harlem shake at your wake

This only the introduction, the first production

All the women of color i'm in love with your skin