This is a song about "Death of speaker knickers"

I put it to your mug, and it ain’t gonna wait

The death of my father is the reason for my hate...

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

I swear to give you nothing less, nothing less

Of his death, such similarity

And now that i’m getting money

You got your mean little walk with the model pose

In a cycle of death i'm killing gyros

Plus my kicks are nik', this what the bitches like

A plate full of death with a side of fluoride

With my semen and oppressed by my give a fuck less

Ur coffin is set, so choose the options of torture or death

Obviously have yet to unveil the fear of death so get bodied

So they hurtin but what's for certain you can get you some heat

Give a mic the kiss of death

I shed so many tears