This is a song about "Dead head"

I'm the walking dead, but i'm just a talking head, a zombie floating

Hold up now don’t get it twisted, i ain't hating, do your thing

Dead they chose money over your head"

And i know you miss me tooshe sighed then she said

Blam! straight in your head, you are already dead

So if i do call it's just a check

I don't want you to have my permit yet

Dead they chose money over your head"

Kinda pop tart, when i bite into them red

No need for a gassed head, i'll have you slashed, dead,

Wonder what goes on in my head, number 10 shows the last rapper is dead

So don't be acting shyi run my fingers through your hairthen i lay you on the bed

That's equivalent, to the poison in a cigarette

The modern man was never dead, he's in my head/

I'll leave a mic and some headphones with her dead bones then i'll head home

And all these peasant motherfuckers take shots at the throne