This is a song about "Scraps"

Help out a friend who's living with the rats and eating scraps

Yeah ballgame, i swear the hoes wasn’t in my plans

Your mouth, i don't need, your legs, you can keep

Use to get the bone scraps now i get the good meat

Searched endlessly to find a style that dispersed my scraps

Lyrical manslaughter off you and your mans

Writing off scraps of the paper, know i might not make raps that are major

I could give a fuck as long as there’s something that’s behind of her

Blare recorders with static scraps but don't blame the orders when the matic taps.

Witness me strapped with macs, knew i wouldn't play thatall you old rappers trying to advance

But i don’t knock you i just blame it on your old head, rats

Help out a friend who's living with the rats and eating scraps

Yo, i'm a hot and bothered astronaut crashing while

Until all that's left is scraps, all bloody and dire