This is a song about "My beatiful"

'n' they don’t make me laugh or even cook like you

Both- baby you'll make my, my, my, my dream come true-----------

God willing i'll proceed to a good husband

My rhymes propellers, words my instrument

Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her

My god is my saviour he is my protector,

My shirt, purple label my shirt

It's a fools fatewithout your word

And if my mother answer, i'll ask her

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

For setting up traps

My shit thigh like my bootstraps

We hustle to survive

See my pain through my eyes,

And he, what's his name, earl

Lost all my friends, my fam and my girl