This is a song about "Coney island"

Now i'm fuckin bitches on the island couch.

After her mental adventure from the gas smoke out the pouch

If you feel it, it must be real just

Going to nyc from long island

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

Of the baby not bein' digested by a fuckin' hungry punk

Every problem you ever had with another man i gotta face

Throw me a hurricane, let your anger rain on my island base

Cause when i make this stew

Robben island imprisoned you

For all the pedicures i've given to their camel toes they bring

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

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

Supply an entire island of flies, or a botanical garden