This is a song about "Gods creations"

I put it to your mug, and it ain’t gonna wait

Cuz anybody bitin' the gods' a year late

Higher than a leveler, like gods messenger

I bet i get the fall rosay had this summer

As the alive die so the gods once high can be supervised,

Like whenever i look up, i'm expecting the light

Mr. i-don't-give-a-fuck-about-you what they callin' him

Creations of garbage meaning you have no vocation,

Why would god put labels on his own creations

Oooo your booty so thick behind them juicy ass lips

Coroners comfort your mama

Spit up to the gods at gaza..

Youre a cornball who claims to be among gods

The big bad wolf to me you're just a minor fox

My weed and my broad exotic with no seeds

I'm not crazy i 'm doing gods deeds