This is a song about "Domes"

Far from alarmed, i just part wit my problems

I straight melt domes every time i belt poems

Collect the heads of foes and then im putting all their domes on stakes

But whenever there's pain, that feeling forever remains

The flow cold as a shoulder of a gold diggin hoes

People in the ghetto are banging, and steady knocking domes,

Throwing rhymes and sewing lines like seamstresses, pop folks in domes,

And i got a foot fetish, so i probably have sex with your toes

But even when you leave, somehow it still try to follow

I'm open minded, you would think my fuckin' domes hollow,

Its a home run, your domes done, go home son

Lord knows that four door fit eight women