This is a song about "Mikey the dispatcher"

Aroma, strong enough to bring ‘em outta coma

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

As the king upon the throne

So i guess you think you grown

Its cold as shit in this booth

From the gutter to the roof

The more battles the better the flows

I'm love stoned from everywhere and she knows

On the slow jam of love

Where the fuck the chorus

The feds introduced the drugs, all the acid, the dope and smack,

Keep talking, get you snatched for that scratch, clapped with the mac

And the thirst, just the worst, it's the curse of the juice!

And i done seen some old beefs make a bunch of news

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

No bullshit, every shy bitch can get a rose