This is a song about "Crap raps"

I cut my wrist and play piano cause i'm so depressed

You're raps are under arrest for being crap are you stressed

Saying pointless crap to me

But am i less holy

Yeah i say that that is totally crap.

Dead faces keep my money in a body bag

They say, trojans never break but it ain't that

And malcolm sex is shitting on the crap

I dont have time for that crap

Hit your block with a glock, blog that

Cause i'm kinda doing this badass crap!

Called that bitch my quaterback, wild cat all that

All these lines sound like fucking crap

You, you, you have to pay for that