This is a song about "Death of speaker knickers"

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

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

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

Now you probably wishing that you would have said yes

Im rapping about death cause im really that type of guy

True to the gamei claim outlaw riderswe give a fuck what they try

I stare in your eyes in your final moments of death

With my semen and oppressed by my give a fuck less

And now the chance of my death increases.

Flying all frequent, reclining on beaches

Know it good when she go no hands

The river of death has brimmed his banks

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

Bathing and enriching hopes and sensation of death,

I swear to give you nothing less, nothing less

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