This is a song about "Southern rebel slag"

You all niggas ain't even on my level

Gold on my dentals, fucking mental devil rebel

Blinded by all these street lights, up late, can't sleep nights

New orleans southern baptists, gutter trash whites,

Thats why i stand tall symbolizing a fuckin rebel

Forever i ain't run yet and i never will

That damier bag i bought her

He should be some southern trucker

If your man can't keep up wit you

Called me a slag but look who you talk to,

Mr. rebel don’t give a fuck

'til a stray bullet got his lungs struck

Take a walk of fate, stroll down southern streets (x2)

Blewin' some reefer in my zone like a 2-3 defense

And a mr. rebel rhyme invasion

So the ones eye has freak don't run