This is a song about "Foreign"

Foreign drop top coups, and yachts guzzling straight shots a scotch,

You in the past me and future on the same watch

I'mma sip moscato and you gon' lose them pants

Rich hypocrites permit war on foreign lands

That grow into foreign friends and eventually strange fruit,

Wear my hat to the back, i'm in a different kind of mood

You fool think you're knack, bitch you rack raps ,you're fag,take you sack, things,

And try to deplete foreign populations creating complications.

That grow into foreign friends and eventually strange fruit,

Cuz if i hit it now these feelings take a different route

The quran's the core of foreign conflict,

Tryna get inside your mind without that night shift

Magic city tipping them

All my bitches be foreign