This is a song about "Matt lewis"

Trayvon martin, jordan davis, rodney king, racist cop shit,

You see they way out they minds with no return ticket

In perpetual brownout, seeing davis, gray scenes

And you are to serve the consequences of your evil schemes

And when i start to rise

Hide yo' wife, grab a knife,

I walked up and asked what's wrong

Grab on my nut sack - ping pong

They vaguely decipher my language

With scents of fish, i'll hook you wit my damn hooks, bitch,

They larry davis me and said i tried to kill a cop

I'm a fucking walking paradox, no i'm not

You cant grab on whats on the news

Niggas couldn't fill my shoes

Then write another hook in my mac book

Dear momma don't cry, your baby boy's doin good