This is a song about "Olivia the oear"

They gotta like a nigga, call me obama

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

Baby i ain't liping, i just tend to keep my city there

You’re the plastic, i’m the passion and the magic in the air

You're fucking with me, nigga

I bring the heat like the

Here's the answer and the antidote:

Lifestyles of the young and the broke

They disregard me, i guess they all got egos

In the field of the damned, the only sentries are the crows.

Put the grants in the safe, 'cause we spending the jacksons, the

Watch this, hey quik let me see them binoculars, nigga

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

Inside my heads telling me evil thoughts