This is a song about "Death of soldiers"

In private, not public in the streets

This rap shit til the death of libertines

It ain't hard to make money

Of his death, such similarity

Like shadows in the valley of death

My bitches ballin' to the maya moore's, yes

The river of death has brimmed his banks

Know it good when she go no hands

Take a shot at the excorcist then x em out with these words

And calliope is the right of passage for our soldiers,

The certainty of death is gradually increasing,

I was fiending for the meals; i ain't talking burger king

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

My brother got knocked now they hold him in cells

Only true soldiers are thrown into the harshest of battle.

With my muscle you'll be dazzled, but hustlin's a hassle