This is a song about "Motorbike helmet"

'cuz i remember poppin' off them chains from bicycle racks,

Matter fact i am farmer john milkin' cattle tracks

Hard as mortars, guard the borders, hide the farmer daughters,

See me, i’d rather cut let ya body give birth

Cruisen grassy till' i damn near crash the car

My pen sparks the benchmark i fench off tar

Keep gnash on your teeth till it crash

I can barely wipe my ass

Thinking about who the fuck your nigga gone serve

I bout to crash all of you haters just debaters

Believe me, i'm beyond dead

Through a tube down your neck!

Love the game though this is coming from a different place

Will still catch you niggas off guard like victims of surprise birthdays

I'm just hopin' and prayin' that i can make it suit ya

You trying hard to maintain, then go headcause i ain't mad at cha