This is a song about "Black slaves stink"

Time and time again we're slaves to our crutch

We skip right to fucking, they call you to do lunch

Starting to stink bury her,

You told me god was the answer

Time and time again we're slaves to our crutch

Lying to yourself, all over an image

Just know you hatin on that nigga, nigga get it straight

Making them slaves for countless days implementing their fate,

Used to clean my rolie chain with alcohol in the sink

Many faces, trading places, diggin' graves, slaves patient,

Time and time again we're slaves to our crutch

I coulda sworn that budweiser can read fruit punch