This is a song about "Indentured servitude"

You're uncool like my mother kin

From the valley of oppression,

I step through the stomach, replace the baby with some fucking pounds

People who were mean to me, my slave, in chains, admitting they were clowns

Left hand got ten bands; back pocket, four stacks

Dependence to dissect tracks, smack harder than bats

You got ben's arranged money, have a benz or range money

When you see her scrubbing my floors she looks like a slave to me.

Niggas talkin' greasy, i'm the one that gave them they chance

And rise up and rebel against these forces like slave attacks,

Devastating a grave digger your just a slave kicker a fake figure,

If this was a game, i already know that i would come out winner

Instead of pathetic dependence, choose prophetic transcendence

Of hearin screams at my concerts, me all my childhood peers

Binding us to slavery tools,

'cuz y'all don't understand i will not lose