This is a song about "Death of insane clown posse"

Give a mic the kiss of death

I treat bitches straight up, like simon says

Right next to the fat lady hitting high notes

In a cycle of death i'm killing gyros

Of his death, such similarity

That bitch bad, looking like a bag of money

Probably seen meaner bars probably in the feds

I'm sick of seeing ghetto-grown kids who nearly fight to death,

Disappear broke every law of physic and spawned death.

But i can't keep you baby girl i'mma confess

Now momma told me be careful who you love

And now the chance of my death increases.

Help me pay my little rent, maybe sit in a benz

Bathing and enriching hopes and sensation of death,