This is a song about "Stomped on children heads"

Die motherfuckin die, hope yo' ass fry, don't ask why

Thy art is murder death is passion aline your heads on my

Fed her acid now the duct tape quacks back at her

You stomped on the blacks, took 'em, made it harder,

On the bible you can run

So flee this beef children,

Pockets probably like fried food

Lucifer, you already got stomped dude!!

Collect the heads of foes and then im putting all their domes on stakes

Ambition is priceless that’s something in your veins

Cuz you will get stomped and trampled.

If you ever feel alone and

Box car children trying to hide

You hang out where the pimps collide