This is a song about "Depression and scurry"

Wear out tracks, let me do my thing, i got 16, for this roscoe thing

And other times i could only settle my depression with rapping,

Rub the wood and ima show em love

Depression is an illness

No gimmick: real time, real heart

My depression hit hard/

Them other niggas smoke, they ain't this high

Demons scurry when a nice man begins to cry.

Rapping is my profession, i am going through a depression

I smoke the greenest of medicine till the government let us win

Get the scoop on the cologne, belt, and shoe section

Eventually leading you to depression

Raw fusion, organized konfusionwickeder than most men: spice 1 and pooh man

And my depression is slowly becoming a misconception of who i really am,