This is a song about "Im george crook killin fakes"

Im just chillin, confessin my guilt for killin the game

Who do you blame? it's a shame because the man's slain

She got the bomb, i'm talking tick tick

Im always killin in the mic,

I major in bloodspillin, im totally committed to visions of killin chickens

About to have another baby, like a rose from the concretegrowing within, blessed with twins

Flippin like a kilo/ im dippin like ur ken folk/ ur a hill billy rapper/ im killin this rhyme

Whenever you tired i be right there beside, the pillow talk and confide, make your secrets all mine

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

Killin rappers by the dozen cause im flooded shootin buttons,

Michelangelo portrait meet mia angelou notebook

Before evil took, over my brain, you shot the crook

Im killin this shit just call the morgue

Manahattan and 40/40, no 40’s but rose poured

The shit is so bare, my diary isn't hid

Im foldin stacks no holdin back im killin this kid