This is a song about "Satan messing things up an the hood don t mess with the games"

Once as a slave who imagined being free

Bringing the scheme is messing with me,

The games up, phony, you ain't smooth to fake us

Hoping that nobody don't notice

These are al the symptoms of growing up in tha hood.

But you niggas too weak, but just give me 2 weeks and i'm good

Full of shit, like i ate that john

We in the mob im the don,

And get the cake, then i'll tell them that's the winners pay

Messing with ouija boards triangles and the kay kay kay

Messing with the blessing of balls and malls are stressing

That i'm sharing in the force with the cyclops staring

Your raps don"t even rhyme!

Beef: i hammer mine

Since nautica was popular than popular for good

Then i will cut a bitch up an then leave them in the hood