This is a song about "Launch"

You gotta adapt though i'm never going back

I'll push carts just to buy a fuckin launch pad/

Gonna blow in your face, nuclear launch detected

Black foamposites, it's like we on that mobbing shit

Put the racists and the ratchets on a spaceship and then launch it

Where we can drink liquor and no one bickers over trick shit

Shoot for the moon, rocket-launch for stars/

I'm an eskimo, nigga, i got cold bars

That's my style/ compile a file that launch me up a mile/

We can talk things over a little a while

And what remains from a twelve gauge to the brainarguements with my boo is true

If i don't get props for my rapping, #colons will launch the #fire #at you/

He's sitting in a pit of conscience, praying to launch this

Yeah they call me gucci, but i'mma buy you louis

I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see

Spitting like im the true rap god, hop in my astro pod, launch, im fucking extraordinary,