This is a song about "Book of the dead"

Eyes of dead presidents, i plan the evidence,

If we don't fix this then you'll see the same things

That the crook just took over so book

I got a fetish for fresh, i'm a clean crook

They ain’t sleeping until they know every customer fed

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

My spirits dead, like who killed all of the bishops?

Ho, slut, no love, turn beef to cold cuts

Not even in the colon, so he had to reopen the book of the woven

You must have won every pageant in america when you was young

Ya’ll be highly obliged when i drop my shit

Or of the innocent dead we predicted

It’s ironic how i drop some dough when i got them homer simpsons, look

They told me worthless verses in different versions of the same book,