This is a song about "Ice in my lungs"

Baby i ain't liping, i just tend to keep my city there

My lungs are filled with tar, i just keep smoking that marb red square,

From spittin' all this ice outta my throat,

And i be good til the fat woman sing a note

Like you threw something to me-so i threw em back

Twist another fat sack bout to scorch my lungs black (whys that)

But now im getting out and shouting till my lungs collapse

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

But ignite the lighter making my rhymes like fire and ice/

Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live

Doin twenty to life in san quentingettin calls from my nigga mike tyson, ain't nuttin nice

We never meet in real life,cause i make you quit rapping like vanilla ice

Living underground like a godfather buried alive

Then they throw it back in my face when its turned to ice

Karma inescapable my thin ice breaking,

Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king