This is a song about "Saints row 3"

Throw her remains into acid and watch as they begin deteriating all the way to death row,

Tell me i ain't god's son, nigga mom a virginwe got evicted had to leave the burbs, back in the ghetto

Like hard in the paint, no saints in sight

Tonights gonna be a fuckin' fight

And i'm about to fill y'all in on the real

Jesus christ, the king of these latter-day saints here

Love the game know this is coming from a different place

Y’all ain’t the praising saints with the perfect angel’s face,

He buy the benz where acres and crazy real estate

We take our seats, in the first row out of eight

My niggas is winning though

Is it a corn row or a fro

The sun gives light cause it is the window

Three bad bitches in a row like tic tac toe

Y’all ain’t the praising saints with the perfect angel’s face,

The marathon of this game always changes in pace