This is a song about "Running thru the six with my word"

Backwoods don’t do papers, that was just for my haters

Im the ross slayer my word is law i shock mayors

That involve ballpark franks and silver duct tape

If you cross paths with my while im running straight,

Getting head counting bread, at the same down time

I got her head on my cock, doing the six nine

Me an my boys we the triple six crew

I'm on point baby, ready to stick you

While the states are spraying kids with 'straying' clips for cash that's running

Somebody tell justin beiber that i'm fuckin' coming

With the wheels fallin off i shoot thru the windows make him crash into his mommas curtains

About to have another baby, like a rose from the concretegrowing within, blessed with twins

The ones you left out, jobs were giving, better living

I heard the word fuck, but with me? you ain't linking..