This is a song about "Dying on the battlefield"

People always dying in the hood, stood

Fistful of wood, twisted for the good

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

Wanted to go skate, can't, now my day is borin', damn

So, suicide i perceive, before i slide on that ring

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

That it's over, you'll go through wars at a battlefield

Nigga fuck you cracker, i put you six feet

To read for seven pounds, you must release several pounds

To the point of leaving battlefield barren like repeated droughts

Grenade showers spit across the battlefield

For the whole week, no time for cold feet

On his dying wish, his grave, his name, they set his astray house aflame,

I'm so over cryin, waitin and hopin playin the blame game