This is a song about "Bodies"

Rotten bodies piled up, goners or followers men

Then dipping with the fucking pen to go sin again

I'm killing rappers and throwing their bodies aside/

They say love is the slowest form of suicide

I give bitches dick and leave

Top of my pile of bodies

I'm everything that they call nice

Burying battered bruised burnt burkaed bodies

Bodies remain on roadside, broadside!

Whether you wrong or you right

And i would never walk in the shadow that never was really there

Cause i’m a profit; i can see bodies flying every where

I've got a paper plane, it's propelling my buzz

No bodies perfect everyday i feel worthless