This is a song about "Owen hairline"

Snapping necks and records in matter of seconds check 'em son

I move the line of scrimmage with every line written,

Rappad is aight, your ass should hop on a plane and take a flight,

I just think we need one night, can't decide if i came right

Out of mind out of sight

Throw your hands to the sky tonight

I'm fuckin' paramount, i hope they understand that

You're the punch line of every rhyme that i spit.

Began slow now i can write rhymes line after line

In time we learned to live a life of crime

The arguments are gettin' loud, i wanna stay

Alright you got your'e swing plane, and decent rhyme play

The white boy sees this as a clearance, now its

Microphone is a plane,mcs are pilots

Let them sail to finish line,

Okay i’m lying, but i’m trying