This is a song about "Matt cotter"

You feminine as wearing a wrist locket,

Ask too many questions about the stars and earth shit

Ain't he dope? no, he the same as shit that tyler wrote

I'm satan's disciple, your the one helping granny cross the road!

Timing them wrist watch down

Puff puff puff, shutdown uptown

At the holy cross game when our eyes glanced

I'm from the tin shacks where mishaps get fixed fast

I'm drunk so satan take the fucking wheel

I ain't bullshittin', i am chris barch here

You was bigger than an artist

No wife, no kids, with this knife and this wrist

Don't shit in a box anymore,

Woodstock though, couple bands on the floor