This is a song about "Jon douglas geathers"

Aye pitch shift this shit man.

It's the wolf gang, wolf gang

Dirty rotten nigger picked it from a cotton gin

A dim attraction/ learned to sing with passion/

Fed ain't dumb but they sittin' in the cold dark

Milton bradley monopoly keep your pieces copped

So, why don't you fucking wipe that stupid look on your face

With the neighbours, the dim glow is glaring against my vase

Cause by then it's just too late, there's so much we can take

So to wrap things, you douglas never did give me a break

But cram the style up abit so you can pitch a tent in a lamp

We fight with these rings with the intention to ever last

Perfect picture frame'd/* perfect pitch of frames/*

Im drowning down, i couldn't dodge the wave

Dead faces keep my money in a body bag

To their backs and attract the black on black