This is a song about "Morgans whack"

I'm stashin' whack rappers in mattresses under floorboards,

I like to think i write and rap as tighter than some biker shorts

When i was young i was told that shit was whack

Dead faces keep my money in a body bag

They napped and slept on me, man, i hate black

On the track, cuz your shit is whack

The science and the art, africa

Your shit is whack, nigga

Your raps are whack, it got me stunned

Spend the night with me, we'll talk and

And there's no way i can pay you back

Maybe ma style kinda bad fag and whack

Every whack rapper eliminated

Every day was a saturday, shit