This is a song about "My status"

My rhymes propellers, words my instrument

They love misleading them having there beliefs fucked

I caught a felony lovin the way the guns blow

Im getting ready to fuck up the industrys status quo

Just to attain the freedom status to everyone with hatred

Sixty-two, without no tint; missing roof on my new shit

I hear you callin' me to come back, i'm a sucka for love

Beat 'em up, and see them go on facebook to make them crap status.

Presidential status got me ballin like kobe and shaq,

Wocky, she's a dancer, walkie-talkie ace for back up like fag

The mirror's screaming at me saying i'm emmi lola's son

Need to recognize my status, i'm the baddest, that is certain

And you got that bomb, huh, i'm tryna detonate you

Both- baby you'll make my, my, my, my dream come true-----------

She still don't know i made sarah to strangle her

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