This is a song about "Death of rock"

Becoming a good rapper ain't that easy of a process

I see colors of red, mothers n' brothers are plunging to death

I'll take mics of stages and rock it off its hinges,

Do you think you'll ever get to the point where you can live

I swear to give you nothing less, nothing less

And i'm a hit'cha wit the blow of death

And wale been tellin' other rappers take a deep breath

It lets u think and rest, never at the brink of death

Know what they mean, everything ain't what it seems

This rap shit til the death of libertines

No heinous stroke of coke, but rock-a-puddle soaked

After every show, a dream she hold

The freshness of my breath bring your death

Clicquot for the girls in the tight dress

And now the chance of my death increases.

The way she walks and causes a fuss