This is a song about "Clintons hairline"

I see now that none of this is my fault

I style on new york, pile up my fork

They were living to strive, two stories with a main point

You niggas under cars you should be unemployed

Movin' bricks through the site like construction workers,

We are being wiped off the face of this earth

You already know you're dead

Im going to get some head

I took my number, i waited in line

Pad on the heel that's a passion of mine

And think alone in my head

That's boa, see that's my set

Began slow now i can write rhymes line after line

Go inside the mind, you will find the mine

Middle east/ an arranged marriage , had not choice but to be/

They hating, patrolling and trying to catch me riding dirty