This is a song about "Syndicate"

Vancouver where i originate, me and the syndicate

Ironin' you niggas now it's time to starch the shit

Dead at thirteen cause he yearned to bangsniffed a lot of flowers, but how could i cry

President says it was imminent, i don't believe in the syndicate of the eye

No, i can’t called bitch i’m lying, i don’t use my phone, shit

I'm intricate and infinite and rolling with no syndicate/

Henny got me spinnin like a fuc*in hurricane kick

Is he illiterate, literal syndicate

And manage to establish a syndicate of business to live it lavish

Your aura is a magnet, my eyes a metal bag, it's attractive