This is a song about "Parents with the yelling"

Blewin' some reefer in my zone like a 2-3 defense

And seeing my parents with their palms placed on their heads

Your parents wanted to get rid of you with a gift receipt,

The people ain't got shoes for they feet, or food to eat

And that's reallife that i was aimed to belove by my family tree

Hilarity like wordplay with transparency that only trans parents see

Make your parents change the radio station

And i can't breath when i'm high cause the airs too thin

The j gets smaller, i'm loving my zone

I fought back, now my parents are on the phone

But i pray these everlasting groupies don't fuck up this love

All of those are dead to me, similar to the children's parents

D-low where's the trigger, i'll let this bullet play hero.. bang

Parents just don't understand my troubles with "the man."

Just then the pigs bust in yelling, freeze

Nigga, i'm a bastard, i fuck with chord keys