This is a song about "Condition"

And hell. human condition? what a fancy name to label on a prison,

Telling me shutup, i’m leaving youthe reason you ain’t even got one

The outskirts distribute my vision contributing to the burns i position

Tell my story from a position to show everyone my condition

I'm in a condition of intuitions were life's made up of illusions,

That we’ve been confined to, so the corporate won’t make decisions

Or you will be discovered in a very bad condition.

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

Being blind isn't a condition, it's a decision,

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

You use anything at your disposal to mend your condition,

Apprehend a couple men, triple six is fuckin' sin

On his critical condition,

Yeah my shit ain't no scratch and win