This is a song about "Hannah the whore"

Get back into the kitchen whore, you can quit your bitching or,

And all that deep shit i was previously down for

Can't use the phonecause i'm sure someone is tappin indid it before

About how you sold out to the norm like a whore on the jersey shore

And so the muscle flow is something you can't get no muzzel for

I bled all over the fucking place worse than an abused whore

But she’s a slut she’s whore

Look, viewin life from the 36th floor

My visions that i record, the instruments i adore

Self-esteem at top cream of the cream, i score the green, whore.

Rape the whore, slit her throat, ya i finished her

I'm on my grind feeble, my music is either

Without choice or hope to voice our own noiseless mope of far away homes

I fucked my whore than stabbed her in the heart, like im an indian from indiana jones,

Cuz i fuck any rap makin the rap game my main whore, as my lyrical brain brings more,

But fuck that, cindi was my dope fiend motherwelfare checks never stepped through the front door