This is a song about "Factory"

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate

Slapped in factory boxes like boxers, i'm renegade,

Your birth certificate is an apology from the condom factory

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

You know, it's like i'm livin just to diei fall on my knees and beg for mercy, not knowin if i'm worthy

Evidently, im a killing accessory, thats why im hiding in a supplementary factory,

Raps straight out the back of the crack factory

And you are you too, but bitch i'm three

And i ain't puttin' no rims on it, when it's five hundred ya ride factory

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

Someone gotta be telling someone somebody is tripping

Oh wait it is, i'm past all the last factory packagers packaging,