This is a song about "Jacob bream"

You can never tell me that i'm not hungry

You're the john mccain to his robert e. lee/

Never give my heart to hoes that want my play shit

Raised as an asian doesn't mean that i can't spit

Grandma called, see me on the billboards around the city

I’m at the bridge, boutta jump off right into the sea,

And when we on the road, bitches follow the tour bus

The poor stay poor, only the rich get status

It's poor whites and poor blacks, still they hate each other,

I decided to boss up, life's a bitch and i court her

Steal your sabre-sword, rip a few chords & call it an album/

The mirror's screaming at me saying i'm emmi lola's son

Megaphones be blaring my bass,

I can barely wipe my ass