This is a song about "Condition"

On his critical condition,

You're uncool like my mother kin

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

You use anything at your disposal to mend your condition,

I can't take a big l, my city needs me, i gotta win

Make success your mission, regardless of your condition

And i can't breath when i'm high cause the airs too thin

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

Bobbing and weaving, spiritual hymn singing

Stuck in this #condition i'm fitting

It's my fact y'all are fiction with diction

And then i saw the air condition