This is a song about "Slave trade"

But a slave to my own street.

I pray the lord my guns to keep

Rocking black and gold stocking caps and fleur-de-lis shockey hats

And rise up and rebel against these forces like slave attacks,

Hightalking back to the screen drinkin' liquorhavin' big dreams of gettin' richer

Devastating a grave digger your just a slave kicker a fake figure,

Shit stress free i ain't even gon' hassle her

They trade semen as their holes fill up by the liter

Modern day slave shit / mistakes but there's no way to erase it

Straight up fuck all y’all nigga's talking about that nigga changed shit

This is my sixth crusade, handing out hand grenades on every single slave trade,

But his deferred, and blurred and changed in shapeit's fate, it wasn't my choice to make

Blow up with power the conclusion is the world trade towers

Then never touch it, like your goatee it's grown for years