This is a song about "Son of satin"

Deep into her soul, slow, now he's in controlpop's doing worse, a victim of his deadly curse

Shit is over i'll drive over you in my rover damn, i'm the son of sam you vultures

Acting like he's the son of god, bitch fuck your whine

Just a couple niggas in a boxcar that bitch go lime

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

Call that bitch rondoi'm fresher than the prom hoteach her, we don't fly coachshe fuckin' but she act dumb

This be the realest shit i ever wrote

Branded a son of middle-class folk,

And ya pussy was amazing but it ain't worth a couple million

That you cant beat me, go ask your mum, to buy you a pair of these skills, son

Sick twisted prick, sick sadistic son of a biscuit

At times i like to watch out the latest shit

I'm the lost son of god in the new page of psalm

When big lips is in the attic armed with an addict's arm

So the ones eye has freak don't run

Dancin' with satan in satin