This is a song about "Catcher in the rye"

They infiltrate our homes, africa

In the foreground while i'm in the

Balling in herrrrrrre let-let-let-let it fly

She ordered dat pastrami on rye

Shot in the dark, shot in the dark

Snitches here don't got no heart

All these little dreams you got, they're not shit

Guns in the waistband, blunts in the pocket

In the face of the outside.

Neither black nor white

In the face of the outside.

Get the ass shots right

Put the lotion on the skin, in the acid, in the gutter,

While his fiends for cream well exceeded the dream she once lived for

In the far back near the corner trying to take it in,

Everybody finger point in your direction