This is a song about "Market"

Spit calmly, the market only gave out tickets

Good rhythm, bad women and better lyrics

Fast life like born on wednesday and died on thursday

Organs pieced out and sold to black market elderly,

Front on the drug market, bodies get rolled up in a carpet

Forreal i'm aggravated that gon' abandon this shit

You try to call the cops a new snitches on the market.

And i ride for any nigga who believe in the shit

Tyler the creator invented some new shit

Until he sell his own cd's at the market

Take a shot at the excorcist then x em out with these words

Because its a growing job market and i like computers

I hit up my supplier and retired the market

And, uh, i don’t know what keeps me alive, shit