This is a song about "Border lands"

I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see

Recovered man, our plans ta discover other lands, suburban places got me

This bitch is badi dream of pockets full of bands

Rich hypocrites permit war on foreign lands

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

Be peddling on bikes to the border flipping bitches like a quarter

Get backpack 'n ya gear on, time to cross the border.

She still don't know i made sarah to strangle her

She gon' shake that little ass while they rain with that cash

Where her shadow cast, when she lands she'll smash like glass into the grass.

Make sure your fuckin' feelings end up up in a glad bag

Baby got back, shows where ya lack of flow lands ya, right in the back.

The rap pad border got me wanna win them races

Chanel slippers on my bitches like you go love