This is a song about "Finding the one"

Electric chair i don't deserve the fun

But the one, now the one who's done

If i ever hand you some weed, it's free, you don't owe me none

If finding somebody real is your fucking problem

You're the weakest one, you're the one to fight through,

Since back in high school, we was true, me and you

Come downstairs with nothing but a shoe string

But i'm finding grinding isn't quite like reclining

I'm not the only one

I'm a son of a gun

Tell em their ambitions then we need some more of them

If finding somebody real is your fucking problem

It's no wonder that you have trouble finding rhymes,

Living underground like a godfather buried alive

Finding a perfect storm of memories raging in fears

He took it to pitchfork, he couldn't get a sentence