This is a song about "Native"

Homie popped up with about twenty bags and

That in it's native alphabet, you can't understand

And your loves in hindsight and you see everything its not

Got up, voice says look up, surrounded by members of the native mob,

It's something you provide that make me want to get inside you

Whats his native people, find it harder for nights to sleep through,

Single father raising hits, ending them makes me a native then

And louder than a microphone that's slightly near a lion's den

And it's time to make a real native separation from the fake friends

Cause i'll be honest: i ain't tryna be a victim of the projects