This is a song about "Knots of the kuchen tackle"

Of the book of your life

And when i start to rise

I pack a lip, smack a bitch, tackle her and crack her ribs

Everybody seems to misread every sentence

In front of our building, they was my heroes

Furniture made of the flesh of my foes

Americans tackle in foot ball? getting all bloody?

That flies me to places, with spaceships, that don't need money

Hearing this rapper kendrick whirling the words like the movement of worms is what i've learned,

Be the lion of the zoo be the glue of the bottle be the air of the world,

Niggas getting flipped, i get them done for nothing

So if there's any midget willing to tackle the king

If lay-low thinks he can start shit, well i'll tackle him,

That's because thats these compton streets was built not to win

Raybands...hide the face of,

I'm breathing for a purpose