This is a song about "Dropping bodies"

Magazines who at times seem to misuse

Potent phlegm gold tutted, bodies go loose

Who's saying there hasn't been bodies i racked?

Stuck in my high, afraid of heights, i'm trapped

Nigga, i'm a bastard, i fuck with chord keys

Burying battered bruised burnt burkaed bodies

Bodies break down and still smoking cigarettes,

And a nigga so fly i should be droved in jets

Top of my pile of bodies

I'm everything that they call nice

Unknowingly your dropping down into the depths/

I think i've got some enemies disguised as friends

Just the scissors and the razor blades and many of the bodies,

But for now just roll it up and just become one with the breeze

And dropping down a thousand boulders,

Said that they tried to give him like a hundred years