This is a song about "Issue tracking"

It's an issue affected both the rich and the poor,

Bust that pussy open, turn that sofa to a fuckin pool

The issue with that shit is that i don't give a fuck

Fuck a cold sore, getcha getcha own cup

Can i meet that, where you be at, everybody try to beat that

We need to talk about this issue, every minute's the limit,

Bird gangs, it was birds i flew

You're a worst issue,

Issue that essential to solve is part of rap falls blind

Besides bumpin n grindin wasn't nothin on our mind

So i said bye to rap saw the issue at hand

The walls i couldn't break em or take em apart with a tank

But whenever there's pain, that feeling forever remains

Cracking throat,scrambling papers,to capture the fame,tracking my veins,

You bout the issue bro, cus ive been though more shit then a tissue roll.

My success'll be the death of youlo and behold you sold your soul