This is a song about "Gravel roads chickens"

To being a being and beating the back roads and being it

It's wolf gang barking keep you up like car alarms and shit

And life's a bitch, don't hit women so i bit her

The roads of the slayer are all getting nearer

Top of the dome wit it, or wroten lyrics

Out of roads grow the brightest flowers of the mix,

Fuck the pork, pluck the chickens for sport.

Manahattan and 40/40, no 40’s but rose poured

You wear a shirt, my records sell yes sir

Long roads to travel to stand tall i'll bother

I'm winning cause ricky made my mistakes known

Lonely roads, the windy breeze, crackheads out cold alone,

That you'll never acquire, you're chickens, apply logic

That i'mma pay for with dimes, nickels and quarters and shit