This is a song about "Conductors of electricity"

Metro zoo in here, with my crew in here

Using blacks of course was of wide appeal

Hey! what's your name? oh, that's nice

Of the book of your life

Epic, they used to feed me detours

I'ma part of yours i'ma tale of yours

It's hard to have american pride when most of your money's made out of them lies

Born to teare mics an blast sites with trife, lyrical conductors no need to speak it twice,

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Like a small garage in your backyard

Because of my constant fear of being betrayed

Dropped out of school never made it to the 12th grade

Of being of always getting wired

Plumber in the back seat, pipe work