This is a song about "Dead children"

As i christen your children

Dub a.l.e., still a son of a gun

Im controlling the air, like a gentry decision

Your brains just caves in, when, im busting out like unborn children,

There's children dying and i am crying

Abroad flying and bar buying from broad writing

You're fucking with me, nigga

Dead , shot etc

Pants shitting, scared, barely even shifting, i'm as sick as fourty children

Like oh, when i see himi live a landslide occur when deers run

I'm rolling down the window

We all children who dont even know.

All you niggas dead , dead fake

I swear these off rhyme bums are full of hate

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

Foolish children (stuck in a box) like clueless chickens