This is a song about "Gangsta ways you hate"

The thoughts of killing you in different ways are bouncing,

And i can't breath when i'm high cause the airs too thin

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

All of these are the ways that you could meet your fate,

Dear god, can you forgive my selfish ways?

Keep yo' head up and try to keep the faith

I got six clips to the fuckin' duct tape

You bitches just spit so much hate

You think hate gonna inflict pain

Just plain pat visions with some sick aim

My flow you hate the pace

And pray for better days

Wale, d.c. thats me, huh

He tries to be a gangsta,

And i laid some rhymes for you on this funky gangsta beat

Long as i can feel my heart tap like happy feet