This is a song about "Chickens and such"

That you'll never acquire, you're chickens, apply logic

I ain't your regular rapper who just be talking shit

Cause i’ve been counting all this dirty paper for a minute

And crush your fuckin dreams cause im such a piece of shit

And yet you used to be such a nice kid,

Fistful of wood, twisted for the good

No coach bag if i go with that, snake skin tote that cobra clutch

And it was instilled into my heart to desire and want such.

Knowing way to much like such

I feel they praisin too much

I ain’t e’en tryin’, fool, ho, i ball like private school

Such a savage, come and ravage, black or white, rich or poor,

Cuz i acknowledge i am far more knowledge

As every rhyme mattered as such

Bomaye, killa cam, my lord

Fuck the pork, pluck the chickens for sport.