This is a song about "Covalent bonding"

No wonder so many kids take the easy route

Pockets morbidly obese, i'll be tourin for loot

And i'm on you rapper's ass like brake lights

No contact, beer bottles, and random fights

And even when it's dark out, the sun is shining somewhere

With your head in the clouds it must be hard to see, the route ahead where

I used to want to be the messiah of rap

Roll up a joint we got mary in the bag

I swear these off rhyme bums are full of hate

Joining clubs in highschool so they can debate

Hands up, throw me up against the wall

No phone calls no visits no contact at all

Use yo girl for a one night fling

I said pay me it’s nothing

Enough fucking atheist rappers to get a nun slapped

Prepare for contact, i bomb tracks, sign off like a contract,