This is a song about "Foreign"

I'll rebel against your jealous hating, blessed with the essence to excel with patience

And try to deplete foreign populations creating complications.

I style on new york, pile up my fork

Damn... my levels foreign wheres ya passport

Cause i’ve been counting all this dirty paper for a minute

That grow into foreign friends and eventually strange fruit,

Take a look, to this bullet, now my finger slipped

The quran's the core of foreign conflict,

Gotta bad foreign bitch stupid thick gotta in the game now she runnin shit

Still standin' and in love with my prideheard frivolous beats, we past that

Driving my car to a foreign place

They say that i never cease to amaze

Left chicago with good money for 5 drops

Like 40 scores of foreign wars i bring the bombs