This is a song about "Hunting niggas moving bricks"

There's no answer for it, these rhetorical lyrics

Only way up out this life is movin a couple bricks

My shit is heavy, droppin bricks

I be giving work to the kids

I'm flipping bricks; spitting sick as syphilis

Fall, bitch, give me everything, i'm taking all this

My reasons are preaches hunting on societys feeble demons

Because that booty mad thick behind your juicy ass lips

Someone you love but stay focused and moving

Like wu-tang, look how i do the thing

At the bank of braavos is where i'm hunting funding

I was like a young simba couldn’t wait to be the king

In the jungle, i planned on the keeper

The workers slingin' mud bricks, rhymes are sweeter,

I'm hunting these wimps, one after another

And let them lames get your old number