This is a song about "Got to feed the machine"

Nasty new street slugger, my heat seeks suckers

Old rubber burners feed kids, have to run the numbers

Nigga fuck you cracker, i put you six feet

Baby mammas on the corner—little mouths to feed

To be specific feed the critics to some choppa clips/

My entendres be tumblin’ while you niggas lack balance

Of weed, then i'm a have to greed. proceed to the next stage and a feed a seed

So my outlook's dim and my house is eventually without any heat

They know the truth but feed lies to the public

Stuck her toungue out, flirted, played with his dick

Be the king, that was part of my dream

Your going against the mean killing machine

Y’all feed it to the preacher’s mouth and call it christianity

That bastard was buzzing like woody so we get it for free