This is a song about "Dying on the battlefield"

I seems i lost my little homie he's a changed man

You say the art's dying, nah brother buy an album, the plan

To read for seven pounds, you must release several pounds

To the point of leaving battlefield barren like repeated droughts

Jodi reads while michael and i play on line battlefield dude.

But i'm a different route, hip-hop lyric route

I runaway with lights flying, waiting till day the nights dying

Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king

I love the sound of dying sluts in my cage all locked up

He said you're better without him, i'm not the only fuck

Ain't no nigga touching my style, it got a force field

Packin all the blue steel we keeps it real inside the battlefield

And plus hip-hop is dying, so my raps are like the laser rays,

Cuz bitches can manipulate in several different ways

I'm so lost on this island only i dont wanna leave im dying

Hold up now don’t get it twisted, i ain't hating, do your thing