This is a song about "Master of homicide crimes but never once fined"

Don't fuck around and make it truemy adversaries crumble

Grand master of arson but not the only thing in my arsenal,

How you hold in emotion

But im never sick of him

So my cup is full, too much pain to fight

In a lyrical homicide

But we didn't do the crimes that these motherfuckers did,

And that’s a scary thing, i try to duck em good

They would get the cold shoulder and know it was an act

My rhymes, new york states of minds, lyrical crimes, in fact

I'm tryna follow money, she tryna fall in love

But once i get the mic it's like i get all kinds of vicious

It's hard to have american pride when most of your money's made out of them lies

People dying all day homicide suicide its just the role of life,