This is a song about "Smaller societies of west africa"

How their societies blow evil debris and remnants,

I hear you callin' me to come back, i'm a sucka for love

They call us misfits, societies worst dream

I get paper like i a mail box, seen

Niggas in the street scared

Eastside, take them to the west

You spit fire, smaller than bawty riders

Whole time, a little more girls

We used to be societies that would innovate technology,

And a nose full of chowder, he's choppin' up all the doubters see

From the east to the west coast

I got rhymes for days nigga i'm cold

Im like nah im on that delonte west

Though my credits are slept, my ambition the best