This is a song about "My junk"

My demeanor, thirty years my senior

Just blink twice and i’m there where you are

I'm driving in a stolen truck, and i'm probably fucking drunk

Tell me that you're joking not rapping, your raps are like a cane of junk

Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave

You're wasting space like junk mail and sperm whales,

Probably because you got that autistic junk in your head

You know if you was harder than me then you'd be lead

And i can't breath when i'm high cause the airs too thin

My words are my ignition for my ammunition,

I just shake dice

See my pain through my eyes,

My leisure, my pleasure, my light, my love, my measure

Just remember i said it, by the end of november