This is a song about "Fur trade"

No need to decode, but yeah sometimes the truth blows and you trade blows

And i got a foot fetish, so i probably have sex with your toes

Play this shit while you contemplate

I ain't religious, just for the drug trade

I fucking cut off your dogs fur

I am the streets, the future

Odd future, o.f. until, until from now until forever

Im colder than guccis burr, my style is more expensive versace fur!

And your son was born with cancer and he live in urgent care

And if money wasnt there love could always be that one fair trade to share

Fast forward spillin' drinks on her fur

I'm gettin discouraged with her

Hasheem thabeet and various other peoples

Your punches to satan are like loose fur that just tickles

Time to get paid, blow up like the world trade

You're in the kitchen trying to fix us a hot plate