This is a song about "Census demographics migration birthrate deathrate"

No denying he is quick

P.s eh i ain't trying to nit pick

I have risen the rate of mortality.

Must be something you want me to see

We would like to call this an appreciation tape

Now the ddr's clocking at the 'xact same rate

- killers lunge with an attack but i can counter well

Now you finna cut your hair, you waiting to excel

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

Always stressed about something whether it be the tax rate

But they say we ain't big

We went back to my place real quick,

I wanna die and watch my dark soul fade, leaving the kitchen blade, on the counter,

But not as bad as lookin' backwards wishin' that we hadn't been such of a damn disaster

You're fired and tired, you can't stay up like a limp dick

Then pop the pain killers at a rate like i'm illiterate