This is a song about "People like to be the heroes and stuff"

Inside of me, but the thoughts it tells me are still evil

Like what priests speak under steeples preaching to the people

Still stomping the chumps when they mouths get to talking that stuff

The mask is on 'em like a catholic service

Sleeping in a cell, it's been 30 weeks

Tricks keep the stuff and hate creeps

Proceedin' to be lethal to the right kinds of people

Rather die making money than live poor and legal

See people to be leaving the cold medina

We the motherfucking best, word to my mama

And all the stuff that you went through

I'm tryna learn somethin new

Then the blood drip on the floor poison pieces

Im true to my word and spit real stuff