This is a song about "George bush hates black people"

Poor black people seen as on welfare and lazy thugs,

Can we take shots? what's your flavor? flat drinks we call a cups

And mansions on the fault line of a shaky market

Poor black people get put down, and are caught up in it,

George jackson packin' a magnum

Bet i get like 8 of them

So all the people that hates you, is just jealous of you.

Bring ya soulto tha true, let em know we come through

Epic, they used to feed me detours

Fire up the burning bush

No one really hates it

Back up on my fly shit

Most people hear me rap thinking i'm black nothing wrong with that

Pouring liquor for my niggas that was killed, send em back

Yalls shit is so simple, even george isnt curious

In the clouds looking down, i ain't even in a rush