This is a song about "Crude death rate"

She understands me and makes me check my heart rate

Just know you hatin on that nigga, nigga get it straight

Pockets probably like fried food

Peacefull, the next im crude,

Then pass the bong (to who?) oh my crude dudes

Flyer then the rest of them, still got my nike boots

The ones who dont even love them, are in it to rate

And i was getting whipped at home in sixth grade

Rate hazel been with me

We like to party

I get on beats and defecate on rappers who are second rate

And my wrist froze, but i’m cool sha’, like a bald head, i’m too paid

Two dyke jawns but tonight they straight

But it was at another rate