This is a song about "Fathers of conf federation"

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Tryin’ to bag a brother with a super bowl ring

The huge wound, that's gonna lay in your heart like your fathers frown.

They stop the whole game everytime i come around

Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon

And he tryna make it front row to the show to throw me one

Thoughts of us of everything of everyone's debts

When i die tell them to turn my coffin to stretch benz

Of that gangja from the shores of shanghai

Living in jail, this is hell, enemies die

Of being of always getting wired

My shirt, purple label my shirt

A little more of me through generation of a debate of hatred

Homie will never love her, although he'll probably have a fit