This is a song about "My dead gradma"

On my mothers dead corpse, though he had gonorrhea.

I got that good stroke, come be my mona lisa

My friend lost his leg,army are dead

I work hard for everything i get

Not mine, i'm with wale, i'm just a tourist on the set

My written's imprinted in the hidden book of the dead

I practiced till that shit made perfect

All my friends dead,and so much bodies left

My voice make her wet

Even when my dreams are dead

Well, my plans are done so put a bullet through my head, yes im dead.

And i'm somali so i guess i'm just tryna eat bread

And my dad do quick pumps, i was sure she was dead.

Why? cause i really didn’t wanna get my shit wet

Problem is i shine like two mics under heavy strobe lights

My head has died requestin' light feelin' like i'm dead to rights