This is a song about "Jamie and oscar"

And kill yourself and your clique

This is the concrete

George bush got some nerve, fuck a war, we trying to serve

Winning an oscar as i'm preaching my embers

But guarantee all of my women got designer drawers

Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,

Where the black girls get their weaves back

And like to boast and brag

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,

She keep her eyes open and her fucking mouth closed

And don't ever (and don't ever)

Yeah, ready for whatever

I ain't trying to be ignorant

Social conditioning and

The open with nowhere to hide no jamie foxx law abiding citizen.

Telling me shutup, i’m leaving youthe reason you ain’t even got one