This is a song about "Fourth of july"

I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts

I mesomorph, into a dwarf, after engulfing the fourth quartz.

I think it's only right, hoarse and everything

Tired of feeling wired of dealing

Top of my pile of bodies

Hate it when i leave

Of the book of your life

Before we see it's hard to live

Thank god for what i did with blocking against this shaky defense

Got smite, 'here lies, on the fourth of july', they recite as you cried tears,

But you hate them navel kisses

Of potential cases

Leave you stiff by the fourth round,high as fuck asking for more loud,

Then you put fertilizer, lyin, spread the shit around

You little niggas little league i'm the real thing

Ronald reagan sagging fourth amendment begging