This is a song about "Facial birth defects"

I'm stuck in triangles, looking for my angel

Then get a homeless dog to give you a facial

Heavens stuck and trapped, inside my facial expressions

Maxi pad, leave the beat brown like rihanna lips

Now war missiles hand guns and grenades

Let's pretend he never was judged on facial traits,

Just plain pat visions with some sick aim

Facial expression remains the same,

You rawer than an aborted baby at birth,

I'm just tryin to get back, to what really matters

Ha, the envy of dime dealers

So its death before birth

Yo, birth of a real nigga,

Is written in our souls, africa

Through ya facial cartilage,

Man but this ain't no sign language