This is a song about "Muhamed"

Bow your heads-i see the lines of my beaten artist hearses.

At a funeral service lurking and snatching purses

Im a better rapper that is non fiction, i got better diction that i must admit

Now money is a service, but it's worthless, there's no purpose, shit,

Loadin out with my rap service, let it out on the pad i make the whack versions

Like a personal surgeon, searching for tumors emergin' in urchins