This is a song about "Cracking the genetic code"

Wake up then i go to sleep. that's life. just stick to the code.

Ain't come from no happy home, my pain y'all cannot decode

Isle full of genetic foods and poisoned viles

I be way out in cali, got hoes of all types

This motha fucka crowed

Lambo, roscoe, no street code

Cracking throat,scrambling papers,to capture the fame,tracking my veins,

Bitch, i ball, ho, you lame, look at my laneys, switchin’ lanes

And when she not, have her feeling like she on a boat

They reign when it comes to charades, the truths not in morse code!

Presidential suite and bitch, i never use my right to vote

Half my load, figuring out shit on my own the the dicinchi code,

Like a genetic mutation messing up your period,

Maserati’s my birthright car, pass it, i need another hit

Now they in the trap-house with some guns that they done borrowed

On the road, soul sold and im mouldy, but know the code