This is a song about "Grandpa dyed in the army"

Tell the fucking teacher that this burlap sack is filled

Wic, goodwill, salvation army, thrift shops, and powdered milk,

I held her hands, her tilted stance, and her dyed strands of rebel hair,

Gas 'em like a rental, when i take off, tell the bitch take care

And i swear, my lord, i been down to earth

Your blind eyes to the prize i've dyed in mixtures/

Praying to god i can slide and slip out the devil’s grip

At the salvation army tryin to salvage an outfit

Wait till he sees my posse, the #rappad army

My slaughter's hittin' our goals as though we like hockey

Frickin fried tie-dyed chicken just listen, you mother fucker cock sucker slurp burp into submission

With this old half a man, yaknowhati'msayin?i ain't tryin to put you in a position

Dressed better than armani, more strength than our army!

So i still be on that yard with a philly of that marley