This is a song about "International call center"

69. but still busting raps in the retirement center,

Well that's not her fucking name, but i think this shit is clever

Be in the dead fucking center, walking around

Lets celebrate, levitate, with the loud

Try to keep your spirits up, lil vodka whatever

Its my venture, so why do you think you're the center

I guess she couldn't answer cause i can't call international

I got my finger on the mothafuckin' pistol

I keep my friends close, enemies closer, fuck both, i dont trust no one

They don't wanna see their boy john in the center of a missing persons column

I’m at the altar sayin’ my vows, to this benjamin franklin pile

Center of their scull and watchem fall into their own pool a blood while

To my makers international

Cause it doesn't seem really as simple

I'm staple to this center, like a lay up

I can hear the bells ringing off the nice dream truck