This is a song about "Recycling"

With the dickerson mask would be getting in the ass

You try to talk some shit but your diss is garbage, trash

Take you home, let you sleep in my clothes

Forever submerged, viewing the paint, beneath boats

You already are caged

Got on my signature paint

Fake people who waste space and shot guns

The road to hell is paved with good intentions

But when we scrap you gon make

If i die before i wake

But im cleaning you of bars like chores

So these bars not mine, nigga it's yours

My parents went away on a week's vacation and

Mental instrumentals lost like paint poured over pavement

Pure trash infused with such elegance,

And the v12, that's on various trips