This is a song about "Fathers of confederation"

You send me beats via email, i'mma send them back in a hearse

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

I'm hot breeze, snot sneeze

Top of my pile of bodies

High on loud when i be ridin' out

You hear the mothers and fathers shout

Return of the king of flow

Got some ill gold, diamonds thats still low

Fathers and brothers gritty dimple smiles

I used to have a nine to five

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

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

Most of them ain't conscious, they just monsters

Or is there six different fathers,

Out of this coviction of feelings

The battle ain't over till the black man sings