This is a song about "Space and sea"

Goin’ for the grips every day ’til the grave

You're wasting space like junk mail and sperm whales,

Different stage, switching paces like i'm shifting strings

The white and black are fighting back, explode like space comets,

I'll gaze in space and change the pace, i'll be the saving grace,

The marathon of this game always changes in pace

And who woulda thought or knew? out of the fish in the sea,

They giving me pounds and thats of course getting money

A space encounter serving paste and powder

The ice ain't really nothing to her

The therapist said hello but my mom would wonder

A space encounter serving paste and powder

Don't know her name those ain't really important

Instead type it off into the cyber space and

Trapped in space with my own gun and an empty clip

I ain't worried bout shitbitch i'm the shit