This is a song about "Jacob bream"

Im a head hunter with targets on every head

That i just haven't came up with a name yet

The ear worms in my head,

Like sally mae on college debt

Emerging from the sea

And now that i’m getting money

Kushed up and my eye red

You tryin hard to maintain, then go head

Raz, fuck jazz, this is rap, increase the bass/

Ff-fuck outta here, thats how they gettin gas

Lord, you're so pretty, lying in my arms

Spittin heat like a toaster cook you pop tarts

Funny how money, chains and whips make me feel free

You'll be like osama bin laden, dropped in the sea

But i don't trust anybody, yeah no one

Cook up and run where i'm from, the south son,