This is a song about "Quantative easing"

Whips your back and leaves you with lifetime scars with no healing

So that make you a queen, surviving anything

What held me back from slashing my wrist,

I ain’t saying that i’m finished

House hidden, drop tops the sofas match

You might decline the hit list's catch

Fakes try to put me on de-frost, they be glossed,

I style on new york, pile up my fork

And my grandmother dying

Now my mind's unwinding

Multisyllabic and internal rhymes about conscious topics, creating the

Que ni soy ni soy de ojos azules ni de piel negra seria seria

Concha de tu madre bitch don't touch my fuckin mota

Aroma, strong enough to bring ‘em outta coma

Tried them didn't work, got impossible standards, nothing i ever do works

Slashing these words, flashing the birds. my speciality is gathering the herds,