This is a song about "Fountain tire"

Over the edge, yeah i hide in a potato sack

It's a nail and a tire: cross him and you're flat, that's exact

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for

Got home from school on fire, with florida sun on my back i dont tire

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

I'm the kerosene to the fire a fucking pin to the tire

Wayne scorching, i'll applaud him

Fountain of rap, smirkin'.

Don't tire me out if i run out of lines

This ain't 1992 bullets tumblin' out no nines

Actions speak louder than words, let me try this shit, dead

And burned inside a bonfire while a tire on his neck

I feel ready. i run it into the ground tire out and put that shit to bed, mumble your

But fuck that, cindi was my dope fiend motherwelfare checks never stepped through the front door

Than the prices on a canadian-tire freaking flyer/

I decided to boss up, life's a bitch and i court her