This is a song about "Empty"

Tag the empty concrete, make your voice heard

My shirt, purple label my shirt

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

Like a balloon...she's empty

My right brain is full of fuckin drugs, left empty

And i got a little big, keep it low key

But if you took a second mr. mirror, you would see

Nigga on a roll, my soul is fuckin empty

Im the mc fusion, with no empty conclusion

Who endorse them, should pull the plug and stick a fork in them

Hey, who dat, who dat? that nigga you been waiting for

My room is empty no furniture and no decor

Dub a.l.e., still a son of a gun

An empty purse, veins surgin, values stolen,

I'm wrecking lexiee's empty head while texting men on my cellphone

Though surrounded by an entourage, i feel like i'm alone