This is a song about "Hunters and gatherers"

Fuck you if you feelin' different

Grab the scissors and saws and

No, no, we are not those

Riddles and jokes and scary crows

And their mothers and fathers

Talking of the gods you serve

And kill yourself and your clique

I pray the lord my guns to keep

And my tongue stay flicking, over clits and fucking lips and

You better lose yourself in the music, the moment

Y’all are like snitches, you can’t see the pen

And get it again and again

And a fridge and some broccoli

The watch cost me 2; your bitch, free