This is a song about "Cant trust these"

I fear no opponent

I know thats what i trust

Can trust nobody on the streets

Haters eyes gettin' wide like bench seats

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

No....u cant handle these weapons!

No pork on the fork, but it’s white in the pot

I cant trust nobody on this earth but god

You cant come to these altitudes, after that put rubbing alchol on your wounds

I'm just trying to paint that picture, when i'm rhyming up in this booth

Cause i'm thinking me and you could get along

Cant beat me when i come out with these pistols drawn

Must be something you want me to see

Be fucking fraid , but trust me

What's in line, man? who to trust?!

Fill up the plug, lemme light my blunt