This is a song about "Sore"

I don't care about defeating me no more, i’m rapping you to reduce my pain, my sore,

But fuck that, cindi was my dope fiend motherwelfare checks never stepped through the front door

I still got your letters laying in my dresser drawer

Though she can hardly walk cos i had to make her sore

We used a andy warhol to paint the decor

I throw em to the floor, fuck their pussies sore

Each time we had a cold sore

She leave her hair on the floor

And life's a bitch, don't hit women so i bit her

Set in store through each sore formed by this semi-auto repeater

We still staying laying lines with sore throats

With my hand under oath, i recite these quotes

Can't use the phonecause i'm sure someone is tappin indid it before

Wake up in make up on the floor sore with a whore and sock hung on the bedroom door