This is a song about "Grave yard"

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

A working genius, a work of art

Snitches here don't got no heart

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Rape a bitch, rampart, im dorner outside the la court yard

And when you fuckin' for the night, you don't need a heart

My connections widespread, got men scotland yard

And my bank account look just like a phone card

Your yard, full of pieces of lard

Hope all over again, we can start

Baby got that super bass

His conscience can take him to his grave

Real words...elegant: a piece of art

// [you can fence in your yard]

Elvis start turnin in his grave

Slow and steady wins this race