This is a song about "Own land"

Enough fucking atheist rappers to get a nun slapped

Corporations try to brainwash half the land,

So to tell the toys r us kids all across the land

Homie popped up with about twenty bags and

Apparently we're sharing this generic plot of blessed land,

The walls i couldn't break em or take em apart with a tank

Going to the southern land

Just hustling you understand

And my feet are chained up to my own neck without ever touching this land

I'm your favorite rapper, fan, it's an honor to shake my hand

The downfall of our free land

Stuck in my high, afraid of heights, i'm trapped