This is a song about "Ivan the terr"

The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,

Just to give her dope dick and ask her for some feedback

Gotta go, let her leave

Thinkin of the the dreams

My nigga, its all love

Where the fuck the chorus

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

Sorta like drano...you know how the game goes

Huh, a metaphor of course

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Hell yeahwould you kill for me nigga?on my grandmother, nigga

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Baby i ain't liping, i just tend to keep my city there

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air