This is a song about "Collect mics"

I got some sinners to collect, their fates are carved in stone.

Look, she love me from them poems, and them songs, in my zone

So many kidnappings and rapes i collect their bones,

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

I slay the sickest of foes, spittin' this flow, tearin' mics up,

But she only fuck with boss niggas - lames, you outta luck

You a trophy wife and its time to collect my winnings

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

You too young and you don't know what i'm fightin' for

By blowin up mics like allah hu akbar