This is a song about "Queers and steers"

And kill yourself and your clique

Translation cause my life is too sweet

Hot where i'm from, the newscasters don't come

Sanyo, and handheld and handgun

Nah … i ain’t deaf in my ear

Thunder and clouds amaze and peer

Blood and cuts, ifs and buts

As she goes through the levels

I've gathered every feminist, so queers could hate it,

So in the mean time, keep it moving or accept that

And she looking for them trees, baby we got some

Vodka and soda, pineapple and patron

Girl your body lookin’ like a fuckin’ pot of gold

Coldest clothes, bankrolls and hoes, and o's and o's, alone and cold,

A military mind mean money

And a fridge and some broccoli