This is a song about "Picknick table"

Tired of sifting through my mail i feel like cartwright, bills

And the kitchen table is were i find my pills

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

Wake up six hours later naked on the table

Ain't gotta brain and nothin' to bring to the whole table,

Let's keep it g, nobody see you when you being humble

Cause every girl i deal and fuck, it's always against her will

He's got his face in a mask, your blood stains on his glass table

The neighbors. but i know for a fact i am able to top the charts flip the table.

Hustlin in our hoods , slanging nothing but the goods / street to street you will

Trying to keep his head up while his eyes are in the bible

To say life goes on, now they're counting money on the table

It was like balancing a house of cards on a crooked table,

I can make music that makes sense, but not meant to be stable

I'll still be able to break a motherfuckin' table

Feel like the only rapper that look at you with no trouble