This is a song about "Me owning people in fantasy football"

I wake up at the slightest peep, and my sheets are 3 feet deepi guess it's hard for you to see

In the morning in the night people in this site are losing every single fight against me

I rap fast they rap plod, i'm living in fantasy with ma rap rod

I skip to places, smiling faces, while you fucking walk

Too many people around me getting put in a box

I got these bitches brewin' inside of my gold pots

A damn shame, the girl can hardly spell her namethat's not our problem, that's up to brenda's family

A fucking sociopath living in fantasy killed his whole family just to live happily,

Two kids, wide hips, found something in her we didn't see

These people that have made claims in knowing me,

People standing in line, waiting for a chance to berate me

But if you took a second mr. mirror, you would see

To grow up in a perfect storybook fantasy

Now hire about street schemes, and getting blood money

Family is all i need but indeed them too can run me right up a tree

Nine eleven seven seven eleven people up in heaven waitin for me