This is a song about "Dead man in afghan"

It's peaceful with dead hookers in brothels

But i guess that shit's just tough love

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

Dead man beside em and he takes his guns and mags

In the back trunk, half dead ya lay

I make forty-some dollars a day

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

Dumping your dead body in a national intersection.

Cause when i sit you in your place your reputation is dead

Them niggas all peaked, but you ain't seen a niggas limit yet

Sometimes they go in alive but they then leave dead,

Or will they kill me while i'm sleepin, two to the head

Im end up dead and in a hearse,

They ain't say that then they wouldn't be haters