This is a song about "My sons"

These my rhymes and my story

I reel them in, goadomes on see

And all that deep shit i was previously down for

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

She told me erything is real

Every one of her sons must hear

My shirt, purple label my shirt

Keep that tucked ‘fore somebody get hurt

He in bootcamp, you on food stamps

Got my head in my hands.

If you ever feel alone and

My streaks my testament.

Although weight gets you paper, i pray you're weighing your options

No rest for the wicked, or the clean purest of sons

I shall not fear no man but godthough i walk through the valley of death

Polluting my computer are the sons of such medusas//a mess