This is a song about "Park benches"

I want that title but they got me fighting under card

I'm comin' out the south but yo i ain't a redneck trailer park,

I'm flying big, my rhymes are going out of the park

Leave all they clothes on, baby this ain't so hard

Smack 'em out the park, delete their number, that's my last call

You heard i was in jail, well i just came from the mall

This for my people that stressing whenever times is hard

To gangstas i'm a motherfuckin' redneck from a trailer park,

And my bank account look just like a phone card

As a murk to lurk in the dark by the park

I step up in the spot, they get to working hard

Partakin' in the park, greenery after dark

Want the title but im always fighting under card

Three large carts full of tards crammed into an amusement park,