This is a song about "Hand washing"

Celebrate the very day that i get past

When they give the grammy in my hand.

I understand i'm back by popular demand

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

With a blunt in there hand,

Follow your heart you’ll make that fast

Niggas hating but i love them even though they trying to scheme

Slid across the floor and flew right into a washing machine

I start to think it's all planned

Next thing you know things got out of hand

Neighbours washing cars and reading fucking magazines.

And i ain't spend a minute up in the streets

Them niggas tippin' good girl but i can make it flood

Washing these holy lands in their heathen blood,

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

I got the mic up in my hand,