This is a song about "Collection"

Or classic misdirection it's a collection of weapons of war

They say my music knocks, so i hope it open every door

On the top, was my pops, my momma screamin stop

To this collection of words that i happen to jot

My dough in flipmode, what up to busta rhymes

Once they accidentally find your collection of knives,

Constantly changing the course so i'm crashing my collection

Get the scoop on the cologne, belt, and shoe section

Young peyton don't huddle, still run my play

Cause todays garbage collection day

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

Carmines and aquas, to add to my collection

I see a f-cken stargot your momma screamingfor me, like i'm eldebargelookin at my skin

They don't care bout the economy as long as they benefit from the tax collection!

Minus the love, they feel like i was something to hate

Churches with dirty pastors my people pass the collection plate