This is a song about "French hobo"

Excuse my french but i’m in france, i’m just sayin'

Snorin' in the bed with blankets cause my head spin

Listen deeper than the music before you put it in a box, wolf gang

Picking food out the trash while your mum is fucking a hobo next to the trash can

I kill more than the french revolution witch was like off with his head and his and his and his

Say hi , but don't forget i also said bye god damn your thigh my tounge is

Fuck what i say lets shoot this bitch up like it's the french revolution!/

Once the police get to cuffing, bet his homie deceive him

And there's something you ain't seeing like i block your vision

You're gonna have to pardon my french, mr. englishman

Your hair in a french braid you can make it work

It's a fools fatewithout your word

I run and rub my crotch upon an old hobo

I keep a level head, gettin high layin low

Backwoods don’t do papers, that was just for my haters

You dress like a french maid or maybe a naughty nurse