This is a song about "Rivers and roads"

Your bitch texted me, wants it now so i had to knock her down

No dough she was broke as she blowed the clowns on the roads in town

I'm definitely in a class of my own

Lonely roads, the windy breeze, crackheads out cold alone,

All you fucking bloggin' faggots yappin' up that extra shit

To being a being and beating the back roads and being it

Ripley's believe it or not would tell you that i'm different

Misogyny and homophobia, guns and crimes and,

No longer do i freestyle, money for the strippers

Somehow the suburban silence flows mystically through rivers,

See embraces, fall short on the numb tips of street entrepeneur fingers

I'm a filler, as i fill these rivers full of livers of rap words like drillers,

X's and o's, you must be the rose

When i deliver rivers of flows

So i happen to phil jacksons along the way with this talking

My mum always told me to check the roads before crossing