This is a song about "Island"

Now i'm fuckin bitches on the island couch.

After her mental adventure from the gas smoke out the pouch

Supply an entire island of flies, or a botanical garden

You let it slide, i hit home-runs, clean her dugout till i’m done

8 in the morning when that street clock bust

Going to nyc from long island

Robben island imprisoned you

And all the shit you went through

I was fiending for the meals; i ain't talking burger king

This goes out to all the killers on rikers island wishing

Guess it's something like your girl, nigga it ain't came yet

And put wack rappers on a island with a chain to the neck

Ready to bust, in the city you don't know who to trust

And i was one of the fish in this tiny small island

Throw me a hurricane, let your anger rain on my island base

I’m stuntin’ the ferragamo, i’m running that medal pace