This is a song about "Drum corp international"

It's hard to live out atlanta with out makin' this a habit

You're forced to rewrite every line hit, pause, drum snare or rhymes spit

Beat of the drum soon the rhythm of the dead.

Cause i ain't know for who or what the fuck to get

But don't expect a ring if you committed to the hustle

Race is international my father isn't actual

Brand new drop, i'm riding through harlem

Blood pumps thru my veins like its a damn drum

I'm international, go on a flight,

And just for that, i'mma blow 25 tonight

When they here today what you say to them

I do it by spitting to the beat of a drum

And certain death for us ghetto bastardswhat can we do when we're arrested, but open fire

I play the drum but i'm not dumb enough to set countries on fire while higher call me a liar