This is a song about "Sell weed"

My records sell, yes sir

You told me god was the answer

More money that mean less sleep

I sell and eat human meat

And chords, hordes sell in fact cheap

And we stumpinbut can't catch the beat

Sell my soul, price of coal

Open up your contacts then scroll

I hated, some ritalin, some white socks

You sell yourself for better jobs

I killed more time, more crack to sell

True player, cory mo cold as hell

Wait, don't they sell the terrorist's guns?

As far as these bars, my flow life sentence

Outsold the sell outs, freak the hell out

Is dc in the house, without a doubt