This is a song about "Fruits of labor"

Beaches of normandy.

Cause some of you bitches funny

Illusion of days of elysium fields full of gladiators

He carried weight like a mack truckgonna bust on some playa haters

Took my heart away from money

Like, "peel, fruits, juice, vitamin c?"

Using blacks of course was of wide appeal

I don't know, obviously i disappear

Cause there'll never be peace

Top of my pile of bodies

Fucking chin-checkin' punks 'til he's outta breath and done

Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon

Honest, sincere, they seersuckers, lying in suits

Merge the mixture with the purest and the fruits

And losin all his money

And all the fruits agree