This is a song about "Hand washing"

Stackin' plaques, platinum tracks with crack and gats in hand,

When miles davis cuttin lose with the band

So rest in peace in my hand

That we can't forget the past

Stuck in my high, afraid of heights, i'm trapped

I'm the reaper cuz have the sithe in my hand

Hand over the knife please

Just know that i'm always

Whatever it takes to live and stand

Next thing you know things got out of hand

When they give the grammy in my hand.

You stood me up and i understand

Washing these holy lands in their heathen blood,

But a couple shots of it got a nigga on stuck

Got so much power in my hand

Just lay back, get your face slapped