This is a song about "Being a birch"

I think it's only right, hoarse and everything

Or was i just a desolate being

And i can't breath when i'm high cause the airs too thin

Blow up and being in a position

Too afraid of being a loser

Said when i do dirt wit her

I have to remind myself, that i am still a human being.

I can out-preach a deacon once the words get to speaking

I'm mental, it's instrumental

And still being a rebel

So i, i stack paper and keep it ghetto

The other was you being a stocky hoe,

I am only a man and i don't know what to think

Was i overeacting just being a pessimist,

My talent should take me places i've never been

Being blind isn't a condition, it's a decision,