This is a song about "On a killstreak"

And niggas flashing crazy

I had on a black tee,

Represent the borough nigga, b.k. all day

Count on myself like a castaway

You have a hound on a lead,

Y’all millhouse, blew y’all head

Its a funeral on april twentieth,

I'm through trial, no more smiles, for a couple years

Savin' like i got a cape on

Come on kids, fuck that class and hit that bong

See me on a roll like the wheels on the bus

The critics are calling me conscious