This is a song about "Optics"

Cause you know, aside from me strugglin' or coming up in one of the most

Givin' the topics, spit 'em through optics, from the ghetto that malcolm roamed,

Give me a reason why i'm not the best breathing

Focus your optics it's obvious they're sneaking

So, suicide i perceive, before i slide on that ring

Conclusion as my optics opt to start perusing

From the palms of jeffrey dahmer, baby mamas said the kicks

Because when i ignite i'm damaging your nerve endings and optics

It's fucking immaculate, the way your daughter smacking dicks

With the finest logic set in motion a plot with televised optics

So prepare your optics, here comes the synopsis

Can't be positive, when the ghetto's where you live