This is a song about "Jason s dread locks"

Kinda pop tart, when i bite into them red

Party in your head there a club in your dread

I keep my friends close, enemies closer, fuck both, i dont trust no one

Californication, nah this is acidification, and i'm jason

Floppin all around like jason collins reading playboy

But not the numbers i makeload up that wild boy

Bitch got all them booty shots

Bread spread n' now we dread locks

But i can't cause my eyes are red, now he's dead

Ima make you dread this fucking rap battle thread

Took a shot, tired of runnin from the niggas and the cops

No wonder she felt she had personalised keys to hells locks.

I've been misled, yet, no matter how much death, dread or regret,

Hungry like the nigga who ain't got the taste of fame yet