This is a song about "His birthday"

As a child his only friends were his dog, his page and his pen

Od'd on that mitchell-ness you thought it was '03 again

Like her birthday how was her day so far i was learning this from afar and apart

Kill everybodythey each got a city to pick to make it our part

Murder his family

Fuck fame, fuck money

If it's my #birthday. fuck a #whore in the worst way

If i can leave this place, and just get away

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

Using his music to steer it, sharing his views and his merits

See money talk and these days

His conscience can take him to his grave

Just ya picture though, you still taped in a lake

Its as beautiful as a birthday cake

Wolf gang in this bitch, nigga, we six feet deep

My words play like i'm a father at a birthday meet.