This is a song about "Spirt"

I give her vicoden relief you just an aspirin pill

Sure i might be mentally ill, but my rhymes endlessly spill,

And burst in a ball of flames

High: that's why they call us planes

Cause i'm now, livin' this life with foolproof doubts

Brains spill, spurt, forming projected blood drought's!

Like how the fuck did we miss this kid's shit

My brothers out producing beats i gotta spit

You can try to push me down, yeah keep me low

She said it really dont matter if its real though

It's like we both forgot what we were fighting for

I rhyme and spit out words like lyrical fire

A lot of women from conversation could fall in love

We all sprung from apes, but clearly you didn't spring far enough.

With out doubt i wont back out

After your hoes leave the jets' hangout