This is a song about "Hustle kings"

Rap satanist thinking that they are kings,

Silicone bitches got the confidence

Kings are clashing and storm storms are slashing

I got my wife, so fuck the ring

Abroad flying and bar buying from broad writing

Ain't no other kings in this rap thing

Yeah come holla at your uncle

(cause you can't knock the hustle)

That’s, broken but someone just lacks the hustle,

Aren't you somethin', an original

We talkin' b blockers keep us with deep pockets

Try to stack that cheese as i tragically cap bad kings

Growing up struggling jump back to the hustle

Just intentions to impress you, if capable

The dilemma is, you think i got no conscience

Gun smokes in rings, graveyards is buried with kings