This is a song about "Pigs mad at the columbian exchange"

I'll go mad at a rave, i'm ravin' mad! and i feel like the man any place i'm at!

I love it when it's girl upon girl with one manay, put your butt on my mustache, fuck that

Them to the pigs while their alive and hang them by leads

Because i'm seventeen, compose my own beats

Why are you boiling like eggs, grunting at my face like pigs?

But somethin' was always missin' like six digits

The day you're matchin me is when some flying pigs have departed

Where we can drink liquor and no one bickers over trick shit

Bricks in there pockets cuz they run like pigs, the other team should shut there

And even when it's dark out, the sun is shining somewhere

Now im mad at the hood like a crook

Call me a product of my own damn hood

Drop them off, say a few words, then get mad at god,

Forever hop cause it don't stop... on my block

That's flyer than a wrestler, you don't want to mess with

All the lintel jugs like simpletons thinking these pigs is