This is a song about "Dead island"

Killin the competition, leaving it dead

Kinda pop tart, when i bite into them red

Going to nyc from long island

Im happier when high and drunk

Holla out my set

Your raps are so brain dead

Bet you thirty dollars you find her like cartman found kenny, dead

And put wack rappers on a island with a chain to the neck

Now i'm fuckin bitches on the island couch.

After her mental adventure from the gas smoke out the pouch

Throw me a hurricane, let your anger rain on my island base

Every problem you ever had with another man i gotta face

Dead , shot etc

Now you know you shoulda ducked nigga

Shit nigga i ain't neva been on no island

Revolvers, automatics, guns stay silent