This is a song about "Iron slang"

Yes bitch, that's a presidential

No sequel iron at ya temple

She keep her eyes open and her fucking mouth closed

I miss the sixpack i had, now i turn iron into gold

I’m playing my hand and riding the iron horses and trains,

Ambition is priceless that’s something in your veins

I shoulda stayed ‘n maybe slang some shit,

You, you, you have to pay for that

Me and my family, my friends, nigga we ride for you always

The pavement tastes like iron and there's stains on my knees

Maxi pad, leave the beat brown like rihanna lips

Iron fist like gauntlets to your jaw for heroics

Its no different, from the iron ones, your grandfather fought

Brooklyn boy get plenty love, on the turnpike with my philly broad

#big #shots like louisiana soda, slang, better learn it damn,

Now you gotta understand i was a family man