This is a song about "Propane"

I hate the sound of fireworks and smelling propane.

And reflect on the rap game, i came

Cocaine, gold chain, mary jane, propane, slow-vane, no brain, red vain,

I’ve seen this young’un on the train, i had to pick his brain

Can't control the box, you are no mills lane

Reach higher heights steep as k2 tripping on propane

I can't complaini've seen my fair share of the fame

Spit flame your body is doused in that propane

It pumps propane, and as i spit,

If i call your hotline and pay 29.99 shit

You got me fuming, i'm propane, profane, prolifically grow others to pros,

Cause you know, aside from me strugglin' or coming up in one of the most