This is a song about "Sons of anarchy"

Call me whatever joe

Return of the king of flow

Sons and daughters, thanks for bein

Bitches pursue me like a dream

No rest for the wicked, or the clean purest of sons

Real enough to admit i listen to people's opinions

Of being of always getting wired

I woke up screaming, fuck the world

We should be up in anarchy

Six-fifty, three hundred my shirt free

She vying for number one, tryna be number one

Got the eye of tiger, spit of cobra, form of a dragon

I step through the stomach, replace the baby with some fucking pounds

All for dough to close the mouths of the hungry sons whom she bestowed her vows

They got you trapped, you're better off gettin shot upi'm convinced self-defense is the way

Made me bust all the way to their next generation, their future sons got my jizz dna