This is a song about "Dawn of the dead"

Bitches choosing their excuses: my new car’s to blame

New day new dawn shit every days the same,

Making g's was my missionmoving enough of this shit to get my mama out the kitchen and

Cause you presidents are dead in the presence of the resident precedent setting dissident

Where your girl at now?3 pills down that's on meand it wouldn't be a song

Wonderin round the places we used to chill at from dusk til dawn,

Satan's spawns, we take ém own, break of dawn to the time when,

We the moody, gucci, louis and pucci men

Then i'm bustin' like an uzi when i'm thru with that shit

Or of the innocent dead we predicted

This flows dead should of had a spade to dig the diamond,

Of the baby not bein' digested by a fuckin' hungry punk

My spirits dead, like who killed all of the bishops?

100 miles and running, wale, catch dubs