This is a song about "Son of satin"

It's ironic cause i always hear you talking about one

Packing a gun to punk you whackest of bums with no answers for son

Adapt to being black, strapped and gang tats, look

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

So pun... it's no new shit and it ain't no fun

Back of your mind, i know you wanna stop me son

Wall vermillion, if she stays the night she gets a satin robe

Cruising on relationship, but need a different boat

Branded a son of middle-class folk,

Blew the fuck up in gray clouds of thick smoke

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

Flower bomb, matter fact she on that bong

I'm grand theft auto, racketeering, larceny, conspiracy, murder one

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