This is a song about "My papas death"

I felt like i needed to die my own death,

With my semen and oppressed by my give a fuck less

Do it with no effort, now lets effin' celebrate

The death of my father is the reason for my hate...

Until then my death is a rushing mystery

Two kids, wide hips, found something in her we didn't see

And now the chance of my death increases.

Welcome back to class, bitch, grab on to your glasses

I always tell the truth even if it leads to my death

See i can’t keep you baby girl i'mma confess

The freshness of my breath bring your death

Clicquot for the girls in the tight dress

Death is in my dreams, death makes you weak bitches scream,

If i don’t make it, then somebody tell my son screen

I felt like i needed to die my own death,

Used to catch us on the roof or behind the stairs