This is a song about "Colonial rhode island slaves"

And i have to say that music keeps me here, by far, the main thing

I'm so lost on this island only i dont wanna leave im dying

He fathers her only kid that's why my homies let him live

We packed together like slaves, simple as nursery rhymes,

This goes out to all the killers on rikers island wishing

If they not talking no bread than we ain't listening

We packed together like slaves, simple as nursery rhymes,

Problem is i shine like two mics under heavy strobe lights

If you feel it, it must be real just

Residin in brooklyn and long island//

And i was one of the fish in this tiny small island

In this rusty cunt, that won a cup in collectin' dust

Time and time again we're slaves to our crutch

Tsa be laughing all them rubbers in your luggage