This is a song about "Fancy tomb"

Sleeping in the ground on a mound full of shit i'll spit on your tomb, i would've even

Shall increase when we meet up in this dark placeyou might think you're happy with him

Nothin fancy about no bounty baby im frantic

Puts the pieces of decomposing bodies in plastic

Baby mothers quittin school, nigga now it's up to her

But astronomer is just a fancy word for moon starer

Yeah, fancy cars, big bodies and fresh kicks

Smokin' weed like it ain't no thing, so even kids

And it is to drive in all these fancy cars

Whole lot of cobras with dope like soap bars

Yeah, them niggas spittin' while i'm dishing out a typhoon

I arrive and burst into the room and im first till i meet my tomb

Never can he mimic... maybe can admire

Fancy type of draws drool on a mild pile

Playing bootlegged tomb raider, and using newspapers to roll up

Well since you already bleedin' that mean i don't get to cut