This is a song about "My turf"

Watching my homie died try to get turf

And you are not around like black fathers

The world should turn as soon as my records spin

My words are my ignition for my ammunition,

My words are my rhythm

Car seats got screens in them

I hate rap like kramer hate blacks

My shit thigh like my bootstraps

Bury your thoughts, take his head fuck him have at him

You're my hero, my idol, my inspiration

Too busy trying to dig a hole in your jeansnow it seems, it's check out time

Girth as it turns into ur turf, two pints of punchline will do just fine

To kill the next motherfucking thug stepping on turf,

Know it hurts that she flirts with a nigga this is worse

Then i redecorated, that mean my tables turned

My turf, strong nerve, never on the reverse, stay rehearsed or cursed,