This is a song about "Our father who art in heaven"

I got a father who believes in me

Once mr. woods was all good, now a nigga only

My mom broke but she posted the bail

Your father sits in jail

Got racks, ain’t talking tits

In this known art of wits

Why i'm living keep a pistol just to keep you alive

No matter , what we know who was victor in our minds

Gettin good graces, take his money, aa-another one

Nine eleven seven seven seven eleven in heaven

Being king in hell is better the being worker in heaven

I’m popping now, every other hour, paparazzi come

This shit get critical, always gotta get different one

Of dying solders's scream,now they're live in a place called heaven

His birthdays coming wonder if he's happy in heaven

Now i move with aggression, use my mind as a weapon