This is a song about "Corn rows and bad manners"

This ain’t for all and every people, don’t compare me to rappers

We forgot our manners, became actors and ignored the hazards

I guess i'm leftwich cause i still get to win

The corn-tops ripe and the old breeze blowin',

Excuse me i got better manners,

My antennas will block the scanners

Sick of hard times so i tell em to fall back

Life still feels unreal and i write bad

All these grave stones are kept in clean little rows,

With this rap shit, you know i do the fucking most

And i have forsaken my marriage, now she gon take me for loot

You couldnt make a belemic puke on a piece of fuckin corn and peanut poop

When i am mad, and things look bad/

Platinum and gold, you gots to love that

When i am mad, and things look bad/

Can't win with a passive attack