This is a song about "Pouring the syurp"

Either take me in heaven and understand i was a sheep

The kind of stuff im pouring makes the bandits go to sleep,

First off congratulations on the win

I started to pout, might find it pouring

So call the coroner or the mortician for the the

And we better than all these mutha fuckas up in this era

I bring the heat like the

P stand for pacqiauo nigga

Cause now it's on for you and me, all i can see

Here mashing these beats and pouring the lyrical gravy

Black fours red drop head doors

The pain, the loss, the grief, the cross.

I get vision of blood born pathogens pouring out of my pores.

It's going down in history, the way i valet two doors

And i can't do it anymore, i'm tired of always not being first

Be the lion of the zoo be the glue of the bottle be the air of the world,