This is a song about "Jabba the hut"

You're the tree that's been cut, no leaves or fruits in the hut

You be chickens like smokey tripping off angel dust

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

Fans catch us on animal planet, tracking hoes

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

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Be the lion of the zoo be the glue of the bottle be the air of the world,

I surely don't, so get off your high horse before you get impaled and feel the wrath of my worst

The good comes with the bad, the bad with the ugly

But if so, i'll take the scorn, indeed happily

In the heat of the summer,

She should have invited her

No tats dey for my arm

The weed into the bong

That's when you know you doing shit

Got the passion for the music