This is a song about "Better of dead"

Im dead, they're searching for any sing of life like im mars

In this fucking line at ralph's buying granola bars

You remind of a dead moose, beaten up kids screaming" fuckin abuse!"

But really i'm just caught in the loop, of understanding the truth

And i'm somali so i guess i'm just tryna eat bread

Been dead years he's the breath of life that awoke this wreck,

I.e. i get sick, white tee, i be kicks

Eyes of dead presidents, i plan the evidence,

Or will they kill me while i'm sleepin, two to the head

Ain't no more of writer's block, fightin' hot, hip-hop is dead

Do you think you'll ever get to the point where you can live

Rappin till im dead, maybe till i feel kind of alive

We're young and we don't give a fuck

I'm not strung out and dead of luck

But more less the vest i'm comin for ya'll neck

Beat of the drum soon the rhythm of the dead.