This is a song about "Son of haidies"

They had a hell of a run

To be throwing the hand’s son”

Son from the core of this earth hater a fan is torn

And then i'll lay you down and record soft porn

The son of the holy father who died up on the cross

They rap they're ass off and don't nobody like their songs

Stealin' phones to call home but the line is off the hook

Here's my account, son, of why i rap so good,

No poor family wants to see his son gone in the middle of the day in harlem

I set goals, take control, drink out my own bottlesi make mistakes but learn from every one

My balance be so tight rope

Branded a son of middle-class folk,

All because i heard that he was talkin' to danielle

Fuck you go to hell u cheating son of a bitch i wish u fell