This is a song about "Dead end jobs"

I always judge a book by the cover, never the page

Working these menial jobs for this simple minimum wage,

Mediocre jobs are not so stable

I'm stuck in triangles, looking for my angel

All you niggas dead , dead fake

If i die before i wake

Box logo on my muthafuckin' chest

I've hit another dead end.

I was like a young simba couldn’t wait to be the king

And every day my mama drifts jobs like she's sleep-walking,

Is southern culture, still we got our fucking jobs overseas,

Your bitch likely tricking off and bruising up her knees

Cutting me this worthless check

Wasnt worth always feeling dead.

And if you not convinced keep on promotin' them

Thought it was over right at the dead end, but then