This is a song about "Orange shirts"

I got a lot to say, i don't hold my tongue

Make you see red orange yellow like its autumn

Really probably waitin' on vh1 to do a lil show called rappers wives

Or be found adrift, forever a myth, concealed with the pith. orange rhymes

They don't have the guts to spit the rhymes,tearing my shirts has got their lines,

Mic in my handi run like marion barberyou haters on the sidelines

Vivid detailed scriptures about purple rain on orange floors,

I been laughed at, hated on, no one would even play my songs

Fuck pro tools, this shit is all-natural like orange juice.

See it's effortless, these niggas can't step up in my shoes

Look dog, don't be asking for dame, see

West coast niggas got more roots than a orange tree,

Though i'm chasing dreams i don't ever care for sleeping much

He's creatin' them scenes, his new clockwork of orange,

They smoke black and wear black hats, with red shirts,

Crystal glasseswe mash on them jealous bastards