This is a song about "How native american feel when they were on the trail of tears"

Cause this is how i feel when i ain’t rappin on the mic you bitch

I'm at morgan, howard, coppen, trying to find that higher knowledge

Because the baller lifestyles were all they showed on tv screens,

To me playing in the game is worth more than the seats

Metaphors in every color, these indelible bars

How would you feel if you were the one gagging trying to cough

Ya ain't killers ya’ll got hundred yard dash guns

Feel hella awkward, when they auction of coffins.

Teeth of an american teen ankles on candy fiend

Ain't no nigga touching my style, it got a force field

Got smite, 'here lies, on the fourth of july', they recite as you cried tears,

Thank god for what i did with blocking against this shaky defense

Better pray that this chopper jam like a radio single, man

Dependin' on how i feel, either the coupe or sedan

How do you think that sounds when they turn on and listen,

Only fear death when you staring down a loaded gun