This is a song about "Jacob bream"

Churches searching for the pockets of the poor

Tell mr. hill we ain't trippin, we cool

A pool full of spit, dive in, i'm bout to drool

Best thing is, you were emotionally poor,

All i want is you baby

Show them im the king of the sea.

I'm tired of mcdonalds, want a chick that cook chicano

And attacking faster than foes can change the channel, whoa

But she's a good cook and supporter

Can't keep up, get your liters in order

I hear it in my head

Like a church in debt

Look how we going to get out of this cook house

So it’s more for me, she invited me in her mouth

Me and him was homies, maybe we still cool

I represent the desperation of the poor