This is a song about "Gangsta weed flow prision"

Who be puffin that weed

If it's me that catch you, you're fried

So, suicide i perceive, before i slide on that ring

Or should i call it a prision, nah , cause im living.

But scum like this worked up storybook gangsta

I try to tell them i'm one of the

"kill this nigga, guns and weed"

We can't catch the beat

She leave the bathroom with a nose bleed

Now im thinking rapping weed, rapping weed

Enter my gas chamber, ya gangsta, my ass

Stack in his hand trynna make that last

I'm the dream catcher but nothing but nightmares i caught, go to sleep

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

Gangsta rap and the days of the trash junkies,

My bitches brighter always saying lights please