This is a song about "Peanuts and alamony"

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

And a fridge and some broccoli

Smoke until i ain't got no lungs

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

She can only live for the moment

Social conditioning and

You bitches get a lot of spots on your ass

Slice and slash, bite and gnash, bite and mash, fight and smash,

Punchlines and wordplay and rhyming and my metaphors,

But of course, i'm the white boy that shows no remorse

Knees dug deep into the pavement

And remember what i said and

Thunder and clouds amaze and peer

The vision is quite clear

Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,