This is a song about "Load"

You'll drown tryna backstroke on concepts that i wrote

When my memtest disk, gets a chance to load

A thug on drugs, a gangsta, load the chambers, it's rodney king,

If not i'm hoping that this letter could convey how i'm feeling

Paparazzi, magazines: please leave me alone

You can swallow your words like a full load to the dome

You know i’m stickin' to that proper code: strapped up, lock n load

Your bitch, she ain't laughing, but my bitch thinks it's a joke

And i know u cant handle this heavy lyrical load

Presidential suite and bitch, i never use my right to vote

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years

I'd never sell crack in the ghetto and don't load chambers,

Load up the rifle, so damn predictable

I got rich from a little struggle

That'll make ya blow your load

I live by the code