This is a song about "Francis bacon"

I'm grand theft auto, racketeering, larceny, conspiracy, murder one

No offence taken, i incinerated this beat like fucking crispy bacon,

My philosophy is rocks and weed, a partna lean, the glock will squeeze

You ain't got enough, to heat the bottom of a pot of bacon grease

Add a little meat and now we're bacon bad,

And niggas ain't shit but you already knew that

As: i’m layin’ in the cut waitin’ for your mom

She's like "son show these pigs what kinda bacon you're on."

Like bacon, up on the skillet

Back up on my fly shit

And all that deep shit i was previously down for

'cuz i'm bringin' home the bacon, but i'm not a breadwinner,

Top ranked, number one my son

If you smellin bacon

This the revenge of the dicks, that's nine cocks that cock nines

You can cut me up fry my ass like bacon i'll still survive