This is a song about "My on and only"

Hold up now don’t get it twisted, i ain't hating, do your thing

And other times i could only settle my depression with rapping,

And certain death for us ghetto bastardswhat can we do when we're arrested, but open fire

Im on fire lyrical supplier, being the best is my only desire

Me i'm like a young simba i can't wait to be the king

Only way to do it is to get on my grinding

So i signed my name and dotted my i's but only on her chest.

Somebody call the pastor, this bastard is so possessed

But only on the spellings and the words can you rely on such thing.

Ho i kick it, i punt it like reggie roby or something

Show me some happiness again, i'm going blindi spend my time in this cell, ain't living well

Inability to notice the smile of death, your only cue and my only tell,

At the tender age of 12, and you feel that no one cares

On this side of the tracks there's only riches and wealth