This is a song about "Directed messages"

Yo, i'm a hot and bothered astronaut crashing while

I express these messages but a lot of ‘em might aspire,

Spewing messages till

As i light one for ill will

Your album sound like some shit a fake wiz khalifa papa wrote

So buy me saying these messages i’ll send the right road,

I don't do dishes but i throw away your plates

D12 who conveyed messages while holding hand grenades

I'm the next kruger, send 'em like text messages to ya,

You trying hard to maintain, then go headcause i ain't mad at cha

They bringing me fish and chips

Re-directed de-ci-sions

Fuckin faggots, don't you know when shit's directed to you?

Put it all on the table, do it like a menu

Cross the land deliver messages of love no embargo

Then i left the hood, like fuck it don't need the cargo